Fragile Web
by a mountain of gideon's scones
Summary: ClairexMyrnin. Problems occur every day, and it's just unfortunate that this one threatens Claire's life. All they have to do is find a dead man. How hard can it be? CLYRNIN /Penultimate Chapter
1. Oily Faces

**New Claire/Myrnin – NOT one of the ones I said I **_**am**_** writing at the bottom of Struggles, chapter 53, but just one that came to mind…**

**I don't own anything**

**Also… Idk how long it will be; it's sort of just like a how long the plot lasts for sort of thing. Enjoy it though!**

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_Claire's POV:_

Vulnerable.

Fragile.

Two words you would never expect to use in conjunction with Myrnin, but I can. I can see how he pretends to be so strong and in control, but he isn't. He meanders through life; hiding how he isn't this strong, there are no consequences vampire… he's just as sensitive as me, when you see underneath the bravado.

Yet the world doesn't see this. They only see the side he _wants_ them to see: the arrogant, know it all, obnoxious fool who makes people laugh, the vampire who has no qualms about who he kills as long as he gets blood – even though now he is as reliant on his blood deliveries as Michael…

"Claire, you seem to be observing me _rather_ studiously," Myrnin interrupts my retrieve, in which I am analysing his inner personality, his jovial tone _entirely_ against what I have just been thinking. "Is there something on my face? Dear child, you are worrying me so," he continues, wiping at his face as if he is going to some sort of royal party in England and he can't be messy. Or just going to see Amelie – she _has_ to be the equivalent to the Queen or someone here… it's a miracle that she doesn't demand that we all call her Queen Amelie…

"No, no, there's nothing on your face Myrnin – honestly!" I hurry to say, when he begins to wipe at his face furiously. Wait… there is now. "Oh, Myrnin, you had _oil_ on your hands, it's all over your face!" I moan at him, unable to _believe_ that he had a clean face and now he is covered in black, sticky oil.

"I didn't realise that it would make a difference – I thought the oil would have dried in by now," he sighs, but makes no attempt to remove the oil from his face. No, that would be _my_ job… but I see his point – to try and clean it away would probably just spread even _more_ on his face and that would make it even harder for me to get off.

"Wait one minute and do _not_ move," I order him, grumbling under my breath (although he can hear with perfect clarity) about how much of a child he is.

"I am perfectly capable of moving and you having no way of stopping me," he grins and I turn around to see him dancing around the table, the inner nutter I always knew he was. That is different to being an imbecile and obnoxious prat to everyone though – being a nutter can be adorable!

"Keep doing that and I tell Amelie that you want to see her now so you have to go with oil all over your face," I smile sweetly, dangerously in a human approximation of the word. Compared to a vampire, a threat disguised with a sweet smile is like me telling a small white lie.

"Keep threatening me and you're fired," he shoots back, evidently pleased that he has won since he sits back down with a smug smile on his face.

I roll my eyes at this as I continue on my journey through to the kitchen to wet a cloth, a blush creeping over my cheeks. Strange, but I don't care: I get that all the time with Myrnin, especially recently. It's probably just because we spend so much time together that I end up blushing… but I don't really have the time to get into a deep, philosophical discussion with myself on the matter right now. I need to clean up Myrnin before heading home to the boyfriend I have there, and my two best friends.

I return to him and scrub at his face, as if he is a little boy, smiling as the black oil seems to slide off effortlessly: probably because of his vampire skin, so nothing that shouldn't be there clings to it… something about the way that I am doing this reminds me of my feelings about him earlier, the way that I was analysing him so deeply, and I end up blushing again, my heart for some reason increasing in speed. I hope he can't hear it; he'll end up being in a theoretical mood and decide that it's because I'm near him, which it isn't. We're friends, nothing more. Nothing less either, unlike _most_ of the vampires in this town – and in that, I include Amelie.

As I clean him off, my phone beeps. I continue to wipe his face – I feel like a mother doing this to her child! – with one hand and the other slides my new phone (Amelie had to buy me another new one… it is in the line of duty for her that they keep getting broken!) out of my pocket to check the text. It's from Shane…

**Hey, babe, you're not home but we're going out for dinner so do you want us to bring you something back? s x**

I sigh – they _knew_ I was working today and I am not supposed to finish for another fifteen minutes, so why they are going out is beyond me! I'm _so_ frustrated with them now: when Eve has to work late, or Shane, we hang on for them but because it's me, they won't.

I begin to scrub harder at Myrnin's face, venting my anger and frustration into wiping off the oil so much that I don't realise it has all gone. I just keep wiping, knowing I have overreacted for the tiniest of things but I am _sick_ of it. The vampires already take advantage of me – hence the wiping away of the stupid oil that _he_ could have done himself – and then now my friends are deciding to do things without me.

"Claire, stop," Myrnin's voice startles me back to the present and I do as he asks, my hands freezing on his face. His skin has been warmed by the friction caused by the cloth and it seems as if he is almost human… then I realise that his skin is partially red and flaking. "Are you alright? You seem… distracted," he says to me, opening his eyes.

I freeze as I look into his eyes, the chocolate brownness matching mine, but the emotions inside unreadable. I delve into his eyes, trying to see what he is feeling, but I can't see in there: I'm unable to read them. It seems as if the entire way his brain works – as in mad scientific genius – has transferred to the way he shows emotion because I can only get glimmers of what he is feeling but even that isn't clear.

"I'm fine… sorry about your face," I mumble, unable to look away from his face, even as he moves to stand up, looking down at me with a concerned expression.

"It's nothing that will not heal; now, what is wrong with you? I presume it is that _irritating_ modern technology that has caused your displeasure with something or someone so badly that you proceeded to attack me so violently," Myrnin presumes to me, hitting the nail right on the head though I wouldn't admit that to him.

I sigh and somehow end up moving closer to him, keen for comfort even though I know it isn't a good idea to show weakness to a vampire – especially one as confused and vulnerable as Myrnin. In fact, the only vampires I feel comfortable showing weakness to are Sam and Michael and that is only because a) they are my friends and b) they have helped me out of so many sticky situations that it wouldn't be fair to class them as vampires…

"They went out to dinner without me," I sound as if I'm moaning, and I guess I am, but I don't care. I look away from his face finally, changing my gaze to the floor. "It sounds petulant and childish but I don't care because they went out and they didn't invite me… I'm sorry, you don't need to hear this," I sigh, retracing the step I took towards him and turning away without looking at him.

My heart beats faster as I breathe quicker, some part of me thinking about Myrnin – don't be stupid, Claire! Just because Shane ditched you to go for dinner with _Michael and Eve_, not some girl, doesn't mean you need to be thinking about revenge _with your boss_. After all, you have to work with him. Kissing him and then regretting it with Shane and then when you come back to work tomorrow will help _nobody_. Much less Myrnin, who is still probably in love with Ada.

"I… um… will see you tomorrow, then?" I ask Myrnin, not turning around to face him as I pick up my bag and coat.

"Yes, 12pm. Don't be late, Claire, otherwise I will be forced to dock your pay," he sighs, but I hear the humour in his voice. _That's_ the side of Myrnin I know; the one who is funny, sensitive, proud, entirely obsessed with the sciences and research, kind, honest, loyal and vulnerable… he is so utterly amazing and perfect and… my friend. Nothing more.

"Bye," I call as I walk through the portal, deciding that walking through the streets at night is not a good idea in Vampville. He doesn't respond, so I add another thing to the list of things he is: childish.

I return to an empty house and find something to eat in the kitchen before realising that I never responded to Shane's text.

And I don't care.

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_Myrnin's POV:_

Oh Claire, why are you _so_ naïve and unable to see what is so plainly in front of you? Don't you see that I wanted you to help me simply so that you would be close to me, as is the reason I have done _everything_ I have done in the past months? Don't you see that I _know_ that you reciprocate how I feel deep down, that I can tell you do through your heartbeat and the way it increases when you are around me? I can tell you do not know I can tell when you are blushing from the heat of your body, even when I cannot see you.

When you are with me, it's like I am someone I used to be, before I was a vampire. I'm back to the charming man I was, the one who only wanted to learn. Unfortunately, being a vampire changed me and it made me blood thirsty, lustful of everything that came to me, as I realised that I finally had the power I wanted: the power to be able to learn.

But as time passed, the learning seemed to halt. I ended up working for decades on a cure, only for a _seventeen year old girl_ to be able to find it, partially, with mere months of knowledge on vampires. I dug myself in a very deep hole with her in my dark times… little does she know I still _have_ those dark times, only not under the influence of the disease. When I am with her, I try to hide these feelings, to make myself more of the man she could love.

But back to my hole: when I was saved from the disease, I knew I had to do a lot to prove to Claire that my true nature was the charming person, even though that was a stretch – I do not know what I am truly like. The only things I know are that I love science…

…and I love Claire.

But she loves Shane.

This could be complicated!

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**So, please review! If I get lots of reviews *hint* I will update quicker than if I only get a couple…**

**Vicky xx**


	2. Ball Dates And Invitations

**Chapter 2:**

**So, thank you for all the great reviews :P**

**I have to say, I don't know _why _I am updating now, since I have an IT exam tomorrow, but since I can't revise for that, it's not an issue... the english mock & maths mock for tomorrow, however, have more bite...**

**NOTICE: WHERE IT SAID THAT Sam HAD SURVIVED CARPE CORPUS, PLEASE IGNORE IT! I CANNOT EDIT THE CHAPTER BECAUSE MY LAPTOP LOST THE CHAPTER, BUT PLEASE IGNORE THAT!**

**I don't own anything!**

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_Claire's POV:_

"No," Amelie states to me simply, as if I am a small and dumb child rather than what I am.

"You don't even know what I was going to say!" I half explode at her, before remembering who I am talking to. Her slightly silvery coloured eyebrow – this colour because her hair is such a light colour – arches slightly at my insolent tone and the way that I am half stood up in the indignation that she pre-empted such a thing for me to be saying. "Ma'am," I add on the end in a sulky tone, trying to calm down enough so that she doesn't decide I need another punishment for insolence: the last time was to work with Oliver for an entire week. I _really_ can't face that again.

"_Au contraire_, my Claire," she says with a half smile, evidently going to enjoy this thing she is revealing. And when Amelie enjoys something, that usually means that the rest of us aren't going to be fairing particularly well… "I think you will find I know _exactly_ what you were going to say. You, _ma petite_, were going to ask whether or not Shane could accompany you to the ball this coming week," she uncannily guesses what I was going to say… how she does it is beyond me.

My mouth hangs open in shock as I begin to stutter, "H-how did you- never mind," I decide not to press the issue of how she knew what I was going to ask and simply take a different route. "Could we, like, keep the conversation in the same language? As every time you speak a different one it takes my mind a few seconds to translate it and then I almost miss the rest of the sentence," I request for the language to be in _my_ native tongue, since she is technically a foreigner in _my_ country, as I am not very good at French.

Yet Amelie takes this as an invitation to begin to speak exclusively in French – something I should have anticipated: after all, it is Amelie.

"Oui, Claire, c'est possible pour tout le entretien d'être en français si tu preferais," Amelie says, her perfectly flawless accent only reminding me that she isn't English (or American) and simply a spoilt vampire who is used to getting her own way. "Or is English what you meant?" she switches seamlessly back to English and you cannot even tell that she is French… oh, but that is what a thousand (or more) years of speaking this language does for you, isn't it?

"English," I reply hastily, not wanting her to explain everything in French – I can understand it if it is spoken at least semi slowly, but I get the feeling that the way Amelie is being today, she will speak at the most rapid speed she can.

"Very well," she responds coolly, entirely unwavering in her Ice Queen mode – but when does she? "Where were we? Ahhh, yes, dear Mr Collins," she answers her own question, a wistful expression on her face for some strange reason.

"So… why can he not come?" I ask, hoping for one of two things. One: that speaking her native tongue relaxed her enough so that she will just blow everything off and say 'screw it, he can come'. But I don't really think that that is viable, so there is the second option: that she gives me an appalling reason for him not being able to come so that she has to concede to me that he can come, though she may be slightly angry.

"Have you _actually_ managed to forget, Claire, that he participated in a plan which could have revealed _all_ of us? _Please_, do not insult my intelligence by reminding me _once again_ that he was drugged or controlled or _whatever_ it was that you decided informing me would make me not kill him," she sighs, outwardly showing emotion for one of the first times in this meeting.

"No, I didn't forget," I mumble, and look her right in the eyes; hers are cool and collected, so shiny and dangerous looking that I can see my reflection in them.

"Then you will see the problem: my people are not happy with his involvement and Shane appearing at a party for _them_ will not exactly help me in my mission to keep this town peaceful… unless you want your little boyfriend dead, which _would_ simplify many things, I would recommend you do not push this matter," she says, reverting from any emotion she showed me merely seconds ago to the Queen Bitch, the one who wants everything her way and accepts nothing else.

"Is that it – I go alone to the party?" I confirm. "Wait, why do I even need to _go_?" I press the issue that I was perfectly prepared to raise if she denied Shane access, which she did.

All of a sudden, the golden bracelet on my wrist begins to shine a fiery red colour, digging into my skin and burning me. I put my other hand to it and try to prise it away from my protesting skin, but it will not move. Looking up, I see Amelie staring at my wrist with a decided interest before looking away, also relieving the pain at the same time; wow, she is pissed or something, to be asserting her power so obviously to a human.

"You wear my symbol, therefore you come to my party: I needn't remind you, Claire, that you _chose_ to accept the level of Protection that I offered, and the exchange that you made for it," she hisses, and I understand instantly that she is referring to my exchanging of body and soul for the highest level Protection available – admittedly, something I have had to call upon many a time. "As for an escort…" she trails off as the portal door opens and Myrnin steps through.

"You called, milady," he says, bowing down deeply to Amelie, at the same time as giving me a wink which makes me almost burst out laughing.

"Sit _down_, Myrnin, I need to speak with you both regarding the ball," she sounds more than slightly exasperated with Myrnin, something I can appreciate that she must have had to experience for many centuries… but she cannot be… can she?

"Ah, yes, are you finally going to hand me my official invitation?" Myrnin asks with a sense of exhilaration in his tone. "After all, I heard that you cannot get in without one – it is _an exclusive party_, someone informed me… that should mean, of course, that Oliver cannot get in, I presume?" he sounds hopeful by the end, turning to look at me with a happy expression.

I smile back and something in his eyes sends a rush of something I feel with Shane through me, confusing my already addled brain – I think it is time to point out that it is _seven fricking am!_ Amelie called me in here at 6:30am, so I think my slowness ought to be accepted at this early hour.

"Myrnin, I hardly doubt that they are not going to let you in without an invitation when you are one of the guests of honour," Amelie rolls her eyes, making even the simplest of motions elegant. Of course, she is wearing a traditional Amelie suit of a sky blue skirt and matching jacket over a blouse that could probably fit in with Monica's wardrobe if it was dressed differently… and pearls. Of course, Amelie would have to have the pearls on at this time in the morning, wouldn't she? It's fricking her.

Myrnin, his reaction what I expected, jumps up and looks like a little kid on Christmas Day. My heart goes out to him and makes me think, for only a second, why we aren't a couple… but before I even finish the thought, I stop myself. _I'm with Shane! Not Myrnin – and I don't want to be with him! _I stop thinking about it entirely, instead focusing back on the conversation.

"I'm a guest of honour?" he confirms. "Well, it is always nice to have one over on that dog," he continues, quite evidently discussing Oliver there.

"As for the invitation, I sent it to your home approximately three weeks ago – try looking underneath the pile of absolute _rubbish_ you have accumulated since I last ordered you to clean the laboratory," she continues icily, her tone deathly enough to stop the gleeful antics of Myrnin and make him sit down in his chair like a naughty boy – Christmas day is over! "You are both in need of a partner… therefore; I deemed it prudent for you to go together. Consequently, say hello to your dates for the evening," she continues: WHAT? She has paired me _with Myrnin_? She has paired me with _my boss_? Jeez, what is _wrong_ with her?

"No," I say sharply, ignoring the look of hurt that passes over Myrnin's face as I reject him. "I'd rather take someone else, thanks."

Amelie's eyebrow arches again, but this time I can feel the anger in her face, as it spreads through the room and into me: unfortunately, I have the joy of experiencing her emotions. "The only other choice is Oliver, so if you would rather go with who Myrnin described as a 'dog', that is up to you," she responds in a manner which makes me sound as if I was singing a love song to a baby, it is so threatening.

"No, no, I will go with Myrnin," I back down from the argument and she nods, evidently pleased with the decision that she _obviously_ had to know I would make. Just great, I get to _not_ go with my boyfriend and get to go instead with the person who he thinks has feelings for me, and I have for him (that's Shane who thinks Myrnin and I are having a fling, by the way). That is exactly what I wanted.

"That is everything settled then," Amelie says with a degree of finality. I stand up and Myrnin makes to follow me out of the portal without a word until she calls him back, "Myrnin, not you. I want a word."

I walk straight out of the portal and through into the house without a word or even another glance at Myrnin; it isn't _him_ I'm pissed with, it's Amelie. But to look at Myrnin would be to look back at Amelie and if I did that, I would end up at least _attempting_ to do something that I would regret. And, I have to say, that would not be the best idea, with Amelie how Amelie is.

"So, what did she say?" Shane asks, sounding hopeful. It hurts me to have to tell him that he can't go to the ball, but I don't think he would have wanted to go anyway. I move across to him and wrap myself up in his arms, breathing in his scent before answering.

"She said no, that you caused too much tension with the whole bite club thing and that you being there would just spark off something," I sigh, feeling his body tense up entirely as I mention this.

"Well you're not going, if you're going to be alone," he says, with a degree of definiteness about it that instantly gets my back up.

"Wait a minute," I respond with a touch of Amelie in my tone (this is what we have come to call the cold anger in voices: Amelie) as I step away from him. "So, just because _you're _not going, I'm _not allowed_! Shane, you're my boyfriend, not my Dad!" I retaliate with, amazed at how protective he is being! It feels like he is smothering me with it… that isn't how it is supposed to be.

"You are not going to a vamp fest with nobody to protect you; if it happens in the middle of a _party_, Amelie isn't going to care about what happens to you – she'll be too busy being a hostess or whatever it is that she calls it," he snaps back, only because he cares for me but _still_. I'm an adult now and he cannot boss me around!

"Who said I had nobody to protect me?" I retaliate, deciding to reveal about Myrnin in the heat of the moment and regretting it afterwards.

"Why, who is taking you now?" he asks, seeming rather suspicious suddenly. I sigh, wishing I hadn't shared this titbit of information, and sink down onto the sofa.

"Amelie said that I have to go with Myrnin, as neither of us have partners… to go to the ball with, I mean," I tack this on the end, realising that it sounds as if Amelie thinks Shane isn't in the picture.

I look up at his face and see it is set in the hard lines of jealousy it is whenever I come home from Myrnin's lab or when I mention Myrnin's name. I managed to wrangle it out of Eve the other day that the reason he made sure that they went out for dinner without me was that he lied to say that I didn't mind them going out sans me, which pissed me off more than I would care to admit to anyone.

"So you're taking the bloodsucker I like the _least_ to the ball, party, whatever it is," he confirms and I nod, looking away from his face. I wait for a response but I don't get anything for a long time. "Well, I have to go to work now. We'll talk about this later… but Claire, I _really_ don't like this."

_Screw you_, I think for a second before remorse sinks over me – what's happening with me and Shane? But I push this to the back of my mind as I pick up one of the books Myrnin gave me the other day and begin to read, smiling as I read the annotations my lovably eccentric boss has made in the margins…

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_Myrnin's POV:_

"Close the portal, Myrnin, and make sure that nobody can interrupt us," Amelie orders me coolly, none of the usual friendliness I, and only I, get because of our long history together. She is entirely my ruler at the current moment in time, her icy control reaching out and destroying the limited power I have: I have no desire to be ruler and I wouldn't get it anyway… I have no desire to be bloodthirsty and violent…

… that is only the monster in me.

"What do you want _now_, Amelie?" I ask as I sit down in the chair in an entirely informal fashion. "Let me guess, it is something to do with my outfit for the ball? Well don't worry, I will not be bringing out the blue ruffles again: the last time made me think they were rather much, would you not agree?" I continue lightly, noting how her face hardens into even more of a perfect mask than normal, showing how she is angry with me. Oh, this is not good.

"Do you have any idea what I have just done for you, you little jester?" she snaps at me finally.

"Nope, not a clue," I shrug back, doing my best to imitate the sulky and aggressive form that a teenager of today takes. "But, Amelie, _do_ enlighten me… I know you are going to tell me, but I would like to know _this_ century rather than after 2300."

She rolls her eyes at me again before drumming her fingernails on the table, the nails painted a rather disgusting shade of blue. I certainly wouldn't wear that if I were female, but who knows about the difference between the genders? Perhaps I shall have to run a study…

"I know you have feelings for her, you absolute moron!" she hisses: WHAT? She _knows_ how I feel about Claire? How does she know: is she psychic? Has she finally managed to achieve the impossible and read inside my brain… or is she an _alien_? So many possibilities… "Oh, you _fool_! I know what you are going to be thinking and I am _not_ psychic nor an alien or anything else that you could possibly be thinking about in that ludicrous brain of yours!" she confirms my belief that she is psychic by reciting off _exactly_ what I was thinking about…

…but back to the issue in question. She knows… as in…she _knows_ about how I feel about my little Claire, my little bird who burns so brightly… those are the entirely wrong metaphors to be using in conjunction with one another but I am slightly more distracted by the fact that Amelie knows about me and my feelings.

"I think you have been reading a few too many of your romance novels, Amelie, and had a little _too_ much cocaine of late," I attempt to make a joke of it, but she isn't smiling… apparently my attempts at humour are being wasted on her.

"Do not be a fool: I know how you feel and understand that I am simply considering the consequences of what a… relationship could do for the two of you," she replies sharply, looking me in the eyes. "Understand, Myrnin, that if I feel it is too dangerous for her, that I feel you pose too much of a threat to her life, I _will_ order you to stay away from her… but for now, I see no harm in it. As long as you remember she considers herself to be in love already, so your chances are already limited," she continues with a steely edge to her voice as she talks.

"I think I can take that challenge," I reply, holding her gaze fully without wavering. She has surprised me – I thought she would have ordered me to lock away any feelings I have for Claire, but perhaps the love she had with her Samuel changed her…

... shame, isn't it, that he perished when Bishop attacked, isn't it?

I walk to the door and unlock it, seeing my lab before my eyes instantly.

"Be careful, Myrnin," she calls after me, and for a second I think she is concerned for _me_. But then she continues. "After all, I don't have anyone else to run the machine, do I?"

I tip an invisible hat in her direction but refrain from bowing: I am her equal, in so many terms, and therefore I have no need to bow.

"I always am, Amelie," I reply, an edge of determination the only thing I can hear from my voice. "After all, am I still alive? That was a rhetorical question, by the way," I add on the end, as she opens her mouth.

"Goodbye, Myrnin," she ends the conversation even though I was already leaving and even though I go to speak, she has already turned her attention to the _riveting_ papers Oliver has submitted for her to read. Of course, she chooses the dog over discussing with me…

But I am to go to the ball with Claire! Perhaps… perhaps love will flourish; perhaps we shall have a shot when she is away from that little brat… perhaps…

I return to the lab and sit down in the chair where little Claire sits, simply to breathe in her scent. She _will_ be mine, one day…

… But will she be alive to know it?

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**Whatcha think, guys?**

**This wasn't originally supposed to be this long… it just sort of… happened.**

**I hope you enjoyed it!**

**Review, please! I'm in a sort of updating mood, so if you review, I'll write the next chapter soon XD**

**Vicky xx**


	3. Infatuation And Blue Silk

**Chapter 3:**

**THANK YOU, THANK YOU for the wonderful reviews XD I hope you enjoy this new chapter and know that I am actually writing the next chapter right now, at like 3am! That is dedication, is it not? True... I DO have ben and jerry's ice cream to keep me company but still!**

**I don't, unfortunately, own anything as I know I WOULD DEFINITELY have these two together if I did!**

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_Amelie's POV:_

I cannot pretend that this infatuation he has with her, _my_ property, is not worrying me, for it is. It worries me that he seems so _for_ her and is damning the consequences his actions could have. He is strong, too strong for her to be fully safe. I fear that he could kill her if he lost control with her for even a second, she could die. And I couldn't have that: he would have so much remorse that I wouldn't be able to live with it.

I cannot stand to see them happy together, when Samuel left me. There is a hole in my heart from when he died on that stage under my father's hands, and I regret everything that reminds me of him, of the chance for happiness.

But am I to stand in the way of their happiness? I can see the way she looks at him, the way that she _does_ love him though she doesn't seem to realise it yet. Is her happiness more important… or her life?

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_Claire's POV:_

"So, maybe I overreacted a _little_," Shane says, his scowling showing he doesn't mean it and that he is only saying this because Michael is standing behind him with a firm expression. "After all, Amelie is the one making you go with him and it isn't like you _want_ to go with him, is it?" he continues, and I internally split. I _do_ want to go with Myrnin, if Shane can't go… and I didn't really want Shane going anyway, since every vampire besides Michael hates him. And there is a growing part of me that desires for another set of arms to hold me…

…but I decide that lying, in this case, is the best option.

"Of course I don't want to go with him Shane," I say quickly, not putting a but in because I remember learning that if you put in a negation use after a positive, it counteracts the positive thing. "It's Amelie who is making me go with him," I continue, smiling slightly but not wanting to fully forgive him because he overreacted for nothing and this apology is entirely false. He doesn't really want to apologise to me for how he reacted, for he feels that way, and I know it's only because he is being forced to that he is.

"Good," he replies, not sure what else to say. Michael, sensing that this topic of conversation is over, relaxes and walks away, probably to the kitchen to help Eve with dinner. This leaves Shane and me together, a state of tension tangible in the air, most definitely to me. My heartbeat increases as I unwittingly think of Myrnin, imagining him wearing a smart tuxedo, until I realise that Michael will be able to hear this without an issue.

"Well, I should get on with reading this," I motion to the book in my hand that Myrnin gave (well, ordered) me to read. As soon as his brain processes just _who_ that book belongs to, his face hardens back to the entirely mean mask he had on before, losing the little 'him' he got back when he got back when I explained I didn't want to go with Myrnin.

"So you don't even want to _talk_ to me now?" Shane almost explodes at me, his hands thrown up in the air in anger. He is being _entirely_ unreasonable! There is _no_ reason for him to be behaving this way!

"Shane, I have to read unless you _want_ me to basically fail," I say, barely keeping my temper under control. It normally takes one _hell_ of a lot to make me angry, but it seems to me tonight that I just can't cope with anything that Shane ie saying to me. Everything about him is just irritating me right now. I don't know why it is, but I just… I just want to get on with this.

"Fine, whatever," he sighs, acting as if he can't care less. And something in me doesn't care as well – it hurts me to say it but I don't. It's as if there is something going on with us and it isn't what I want it to be. "I have to go to work. I'll see you later, I guess," he continues, something in his tone worrying me. Yet I can't care – I need to read this book.

I smile as I read through the book, enjoying the new concepts that the physics book has given me here…

* * *

_The day of the ball…_

* * *

"Claire, that looks _amazing_!" Eve squeals as she makes me do a pirouette in the dress Amelie ordered for me to wear. She knew that I wouldn't ever have planned anything to wear for the ball, that I wouldn't be interested in what I wear, so she ordered the dress and had it delivered here yesterday. Of course that would happen – I mean, it isn't like I _want_ to go to this stupid ball, so I wouldn't exactly go out and spend a tonne of money looking nice to go with… my boss. I mean _come on_. But this dress… it must have cost her a fortune!

The dress is lower cut than I would ever have worn and is a light blue in colour, silk in material. It reaches the floor but shimmers as I move, clinging to the upper half of my body, apparently, according to Eve, showing my 'assets' which I didn't ever know existed. According to Eve, the dress widens my hips and makes the natural curves I have appear more pronounced. I don't see it myself but that's what she said so…

Back to the dress. It is backless and has one shoulder of gold braiding, the other side entirely bare besides for the glitter Eve put on there. A belt is tight under my bust which makes it stand out more than it would normally and it is _absolutely gorgeous_! I wish my entire wardrobe was like this, in a way, because it makes me feel like a princess. I love this dress…

Eve disappears from the room to go and get ready whilst I apply the last of my makeup – I don't let anyone else put on mascara for me as I get scared they could stab me in the eye, so I like to do it myself. And, with that, my appearance is complete.

Eve curled my hair and put half of it up, so it looks like a prom style hairdo – utterly perfect for the occasion – and the bottom is loose over my shoulders. I really adore this look; if I could look like this forever, I think I would accept that!

I pick up my bag from the bed that goes with the dress and observe my appearance in the mirror, grinning widely as I process how I look. I mean, I _never_ look like this – I may as well make the most of it. There is a huge part of me that wishes that Shane could come but just… I can't handle the stress. I couldn't cope with him messing up as I _know_ he would get into some scrape or another. Not only did Amelie ban him but I can see why she did now… I just hope that he accepts that I couldn't get him there: I _did_ fight for him to come, I just don't think he realises how hard it is to get Amelie to change her mind.

I walk slowly down the stairs, ignoring the noises from Eve's room as she gets ready to come as well, and swing my silver heels in my hand – wearing them down the stairs would _not_ be a good idea with how uncoordinated I am!

I walk into the living room and see Shane is getting ready to go out: he is wearing his best jeans and one of the shirts I bought him for Christmas – where is he going?

As soon as he senses my presence, he turns around and his mouth hangs open at my appearance. Something in his eyes softens at the sight of me before it hardens over into a grimace. "What a surprise, you made an effort for a _vampire_ party and a _vampire_ escort," he sneers at me, which hurts. I _love_ him, so why does he make it so hard for me to love him? I want to attack him right now, to hurt him in the same way that he is hurting me on the inside.

"Shut up, Shane, I love _you_, not my crazy boss," I snap back at him, tears coming to my eyes that he could actually think I would be unfaithful to him with _Myrnin_! It's ludicrous! I mean, sure I blush a little around Myrnin and think he is at least _slightly_ cute but that doesn't mean that I want to run off into the distance with him! "But where are _you_ going?" I question suspiciously, eying his outfit with a new level of interest.

"What, you expect me to stay in the house alone whilst you all go have fun at a vamp party?" he asks me, increduled that I could think this.

"Um, well, _yeah_," I respond, shocked that he isn't willing to do this for his _girlfriend_. "After all, I'd do the same for you and all you're gonna go and do is get drunk, so why can't you just stay here? I'm not staying long, I don't think, so please, Shane, just stay… for me?" I beg him, moving closer and putting my arms around his waist. I pull myself closer to him and beg for all the unpleasantries of the last few days to just disappear and for happiness to prevail through.

Slowly, his arms wrap around me for a second before he disengages himself from me and tenses up. "I'm going out, enjoy your _party_," he sounds like a spoilt brat before walking out of the door without another word.

"Screw _you_!" I yell after him and I know he hears it before the door slams shut.

"CB, you say something?" Eve asks as she emerges at the top of the stairs, making her usual huge entrance.

"No, nothing," I lie smoothly, smiling to hide the anger on my face. Although she seems confused, she doesn't say a word against me and simply walks down the stairs slowly… "Wow, Eve, you look _fantastic_!" I exclaim as I see her dress. It is, of course, black with red throughout it and floor length though it has a H-U-G-E slit up the side. She is wearing huge black stilettos and looks utterly regal – if a princess could have the appearance of a Gothic Queen, that is.

"Nah, compared to you I'll fade into the background," she smiles as she applies bright red lipstick to her lips without even using a mirror. "Michael, back me up here when I say that Claire looks better than me," she calls over her shoulder, as a golden beauty heads down the stairs. He is, naturally, wearing a classic black tux and looks utterly perfect…

He looks across at me at Eve's words and his mouth falls open as he gets a good look at me. Part of me feels offended that he didn't expect so much but the rest of me balances that out, deciding that the compliment is worth much more. "Wow… Claire, you look amazing," he manages to say lamely, after about a minute of trying to talk.

"All my handiwork," Eve says proudly. "Actually, not really… the dress was all Amelie and the natural beauty was, of course, our CB," she grins, making me blush at her compliment.

"Nahh," I try and push the compliment away, unable to accept it, but they both nod in agreement with, well, Eve.

"If I wasn't so scared of Goth girl here, I'd be asking for your phone number… that would also work better if I didn't already _have_ it," he made himself sound rather stupid but also rather flattering at the same time.

Eve hits him on the arm and he pretends to wince in pain before winking at me. I laugh at them both before feeling a pang of nostalgia for when Shane would be here as well. I miss him already even though a _huge_ part of me wants to kill him.

"Come on, we don't want to be late now, do we?" Michael says with a smile as he heads towards the door, gripping his car keys in his hand.

"I suppose being late to a vamp fest wouldn't be the best idea, especially when you're going with Mr Crazy," I sigh, sliding my feet into my shoes and doing up the buckle on the side. I walk slowly towards Michael, letting my feet acclimatise to the sudden addition of three and a half inches to my height, and he laughs, taking my arm.

"I'll be back in a minute for you, Eve, don't leave without me here," he tells her sternly – all the vamps may be heading to the ball but they have to get there and some of them like to stop for a snack on the way.

"Yes boss," she grumbles but I know she won't even be ready then: she hasn't even unbuckled one shoe let alone managed to get it on and done up – I suppose if she has them both on before I'm 30 that will be a good thing!

Michael lifts me up with one hand and runs down the path to take me to the car; opening the back door and all but throwing me in, slamming the door shut as he rushes back to get Eve. I sigh but know that this is all just part of how Morganville works and I need to accept it… it's hard to, though.

Within three minutes, he and Eve are in the car, the latter who is still moaning about not being allowed to put both her shoes on in the house. I smile at just the way that we're normal together and a part of my brain aches for Shane. The rest of me, however, tells that part to shut the hell up, that it is _his_ fault that he couldn't come so I shouldn't be made to feel guilty…

* * *

OoOo

* * *

"Invites?" the guard at the door says with a bored tone and we all exchange glances: Amelie told us that we didn't need invites to get in.

"Amelie told us that we were on the list anyway and that we didn't need to be admitted, so to speak," I say slowly, wondering how long it is going to take him to realise who I am.

"No invite, no admittance, especially to humans," he growls at me. I'll take it that he has forgotten who has saved his ass about five billion times then – this is so _annoying_! We can't even get into the foyer bit to then be presented to the room: apparently, according to Myrnin when I saw him yesterday, we are the second to last to be presented, with Amelie and _Oliver_ the last two – I can only suppose that she needed someone to go with, so she took him but _still_. The expression Michael had on his face when I told him… that leaves a lot to be desired!

"But-" I begin to argue before I see Myrnin prancing along towards the door with an amused look on his face. I'm amazed at how well he has washed up without my help – no oil on his face – because the last time he was allowed to dress himself, he ended up wearing a powder blue, ruffled suit that clashed with everyone else's outfits. Tonight he is wearing a similar suit to Michael's but just much more expensive looking, with a shirt that matches the colour of my dress to _perfection_, and his curly brown hair has been brushed back to look entirely sleek.

"Javier!" he exclaims as he greets the vampire who is refusing to let us in. predictably, like most of the vampires, he doesn't seem overjoyed to see Myrnin. The crazy vampire boss I have probably slept with his girlfriend in the past or something else that is predictably Myrnin… that's strange. The idea of Myrnin sleeping with someone seems almost _painful_ for me, as if I can't bear for him to be with someone. Jealousy – that's the emotion. But that is just so _strange_ – I never expected to feel that, especially for someone who isn't my boyfriend! It's probably just that we're so close, he's like… well, he _isn't_ like my brother but the same sort of principle applies maybe? I don't know and I don't like it.

"What do you want _now,_ Myrnin?" the vampire asks with a bored tone, probably having already been annoyed by this particularly eccentric vampire about a million times in the past minute he has probably been here.

"Nothing, nothing," he practically lilts in his particularly strong Welsh accent this evening. "Just you are refusing to allow my date and another vampire with _his_ date into the room – they are all on the V.I.P list, incase you were not aware of their identity," he continues: I could _kiss_ him! I don't want to come to this particularly but it is better to be inside than outside and being barred from entering. Michael would have had to go in (nobody could dispute _his _identity as a vampire) which would leave me and Eve outside… in the middle of Vamp Central: a.k.a _not_ good.

Javier takes another look at me and gasps as he recognises me: that is either, again, an insult that I look crap normally or someone has worked magic on me and I look amazing compared to my normal best. "Ahh, Miss Danvers, Miss Rosser and Michael Glass, I didn't recognise you," he attempts to sound polite but his work is done – he already is a pillock and that opinion of him will only change if he like saves my life or something. "Go in, and I apologise for the inconvenience caused," he sounds at least semi-remorseful as he opens the rope for us to enter the party officially.

"Why it _is_ you, little Claire," Myrnin says, sounding surprised as he sees me. This hurts me more than anything else – does he think my wardrobe stretches to trousers as the most formal? Actually, it does and this was all Amelie but that isn't the point.

"Myrnin, you just told him that I was Claire so you must have recognised me," I say slowly, wondering whether he is sick again or something.

"I didn't actually: Amelie told me what you were wearing and I took my chances that that was you, with the dress-" he trails off and I get the feeling he was going to say something else. "You look absolutely magnificent; I can see why I almost didn't recognise you…" he, once again, trails off but it seems as if this one was planned to try and hide the suddenness of the other one. But I decide that questioning it would be pointless, since he'll just make me do something hideous when I go back to work tomorrow.

"Thanks, I guess…" I say slowly and he smiles at me, instantly reminding me why he was probably a heartbreaker in the past. "I'll see you guys later?" I call to Michael and Eve who nod and smile as they walk away.

"Come with me, little one," Myrnin says to me with another heart stopping smile that sets my world-… no it doesn't, I'm just reacting like a normal girl to an absolutely gorgeous person: for example, I'm reacting how a teenage girl reacts to Robert Pattinson. "You look ravishing," he compliments me again as we stand in the foyer and I laugh slightly, tucking my little bag under my arm.

"You don't look bad yourself," I tell him, understating the strikingness of his appearance more than slightly.

"I know that that is a lie, so just tell me honestly," he, of course, knows how hot he looks and calls my bluff.

"Fine, you look amazing," I blush as I talk, before a part of me remembers Shane entirely. Shit, I shouldn't be _flirting_ should I, when I'm in a loving relationship! "Are we going through soon or…?" I leave the question open as I wait for an answer, moving slightly further away from him as my epiphany hits me. It makes my heart slow back to the normal speed it has and sorts my eyes so that Myrnin isn't the only thing I can see…

"We go through shortly, but we need photos first," he informs me, without surprise being ecstatic about being able to show off how photogenic he is. I roll my eyes as he takes my arm and can't help but laugh as he begins to twirl me across…

… I just can't stay mad at him… or even myself… the consequences could be diabolical. But, for tonight, I don't care.

* * *

**What did you think?**

**Reviews were down last chapter but I hope I get more this time XD Please haha... help me over the pain of maths and physics revision with them! **

**Vicky xx**


	4. Calls In The Toilet Are Never Good

**Chapter 4:**

**I LOVE BEN AND JERRY'S CHOCCIE BROWNIE ICE CREAM! I was eating this when I got the inspiration to carry on with this chapter… true it's like 3am but WHO CARES? I HAVE ICE CREAM!**

**Urgh, literally in 10 mins I have to leave for my history source paper... not hard but WHY DO I HAVE AN EXAM? Oh yeah... I chose history.**

* * *

_Claire's POV:_

Once the photos are finished with, I realise that we are going to have to go through to the ballroom soon, that we are going to be the second to last pair since Myrnin is so old and that everyone is going to be watching as we enter. I don't want to be 'presented' to the crowds: if I had wanted that, I would have made myself look absolutely perfect and have been a debutante rather than work my socks off to get into university two years early!

"Are you alright, little one?" Myrnin asks me gently, prodding my arm as we move to the side of the room. We are going to be waiting _ages_; the majority of the vampires may have paired up (no need to bring a human as an offering since this isn't a welcoming party) but there are _loads_ of vampires in this town.

"I'm just a bit hungry," I shrug before finding myself being dragged backwards towards an area where I am assume there is food for the pitiful amount of humans here… actually, vampires as well since they can eat and everything.

Myrnin spins me round by the arm gently, revealing a buffet table full of the perfect party snack food for whilst we wait to go in. "I believed that you would get hungry whilst you waited as we have to wait for so long, so I requested Amelie have Oliver prepare some food," he says with a small smile… wait. This has been put here… for _me_?

"Myrnin, is this all for _me_?" I ask him slowly, something stirring inside of me as I think this. It's so nice of him to have considered me… but why? Wait… that's a silly question: I'm his assistant, his friend; he thinks of my feelings sometimes – it isn't often, since he is mainly self absorbed, but it does rarely occur and this is one of those instances.

He smiles and hands me a mini pizza, something which I graciously accept: I forgot that we would have to wait around for absolutely ages and didn't have time for lunch, so I haven't eaten since my breakfast almost twelve hours ago.

"Don't worry," he says, as I hold the pizza in my hand, contemplating whether I bite straight into it or find a knife and fork to cut it up with. "I can smell and there isn't any poison… Oliver knows better than to try and kill you… or he ought to," he trails off, evidently having taken my hesitation at eating it in a different way to what it actually was. But that _is_ a very good point, something I ought to have considered. Yet I have to say, the reason for my blaséness is _probably_ because I'm at a vampire function and to kill the vampires, poisoning food they probably won't even eat is just a waste of the poison.

"That's always good to hear," I say with a smile, deciding to take the plunge and bite into the margarita pizza rather than fiddle around with a knife and fork and probably end up spilling it all down my dress. Something tells me that Amelie would be less happy than she would have been if the food she had had provided for me ended up down the (most likely) expensive dress she got for me.

He smiles at me as I take another mini pizza from the table, but shakes his head when I offer him one. "No thank you, Claire, I prefer more _traditional_ human foods than the modern rubbish that you seem to enjoy," he says politely enough, but I can tell that he is basically digging at human food from the American society. I do agree _slightly_… but pizza is Italian!

"So how did you get here?" I ask him randomly, deciding that it is best to fill the silence which could extend for an hour if I don't break it. He focuses on me from his original staring at the blue velvet curtains on the far side of the room and smiles slightly, his smile invoking a reaction in me that I wouldn't _ever_ verbalise. It is so, _so_ wrong to feel like this _when the person is my boss, not my boyfriend_!

He pulls a set of keys from his pocket and I groan, instantly regretting agreeing to go home in his transport – I don't think that I will survive. "Tell me, Myrnin, did you get here via Main Street?" I ask him, my heart sinking as he nods. "Then _you _were the one who knocked that old woman over and god knows how many mailboxes!"

"She was in the middle of the road and moving slower than a snail!" he tries to defend himself, but it doesn't really work.

"Slower than a snail?" I repeat in shock, horrified that this could be his excuse. "Myrnin, she is _ninety four_! Of _course_ she is going to be a bit slow!" I continue, absolutely amazed that he isn't concerned.

He shrugs and shakes his head, the utter lack of concern he has for the human race astounding me once again. I shouldn't be surprised… no vampire, besides for Michael and Sam when he was around, has the remotest concern for humans. Then again, most of them draw the line with the elderly and don't harass them… _especially the oldest woman in Morganville_! (That is, of course, the oldest human woman, not just woman)

"I suppose that you are not too happy about my actions then?" he confirms idiotically, unnecessarily because he must know that I am not.

"What do you think that this face means?" I ask him sharply, glaring at him full on. I put the best Monica face on I have and only hope that this is enough for him to realise that I am utterly displeased with him.

"I think that you are trying in vain to get me to agree to give you a face transplant or something because you look _extremely_ unflattering like that, Claire," he says, seeming entirely serious about his answer. Something about the hilarity of the answer makes me snort slightly, this being the only thing that stops me being entirely pissed off at him and gets me to relax a little.

"Fine, whatever," I shrug my shoulders and give in, knowing that I would never win against Myrnin anyway. He is _the_ king at being in a mood with someone: he could give the champion mood swinger person in the Guinness World Records a run for their money – if there is such a thing – if he wanted to.

He smiles and takes my arm, spinning me around to look at him properly. I find myself staring into his perfect brown eyes, utterly lost in them and unable to see anything but him. He steals my attention entirely, him being the only thing I can even contemplate seeing for some strange reason. I am entirely focused on him. He's the only thing in my world for a few seconds, almost, and it is a strange feeling I get when I force myself to tear my eyes from his. It's almost longing, a painful separation of me and him when our eyes part from one another.

"We… we should go and see how long it's going to be till they need us," I say slowly, deciding that it's probably best to get into more of a crowd. It's so strange what he's making me feel and I don't like it. After all, I don't want to cheat on Shane: I love him! true we're having a rough time right now but that doesn't mean that I have to cheat on him, betray him with Myrnin, does it?

"You're right," Myrnin responds quietly, looking away from me as he walks beside me, dropping his grip on my arm. The sudden air to my arm seems comparatively warm in regards to his almost icy touch but… I don't care that his touch is cold. It seems natural…

… Which tells me I am spending _way_ too much time with vampires!

A sudden jolt of realisation is, whilst I've been gorging on pizzas, the entire area around us has cleared. There is a good fifty metre radius around us, people eyeing us with almost a sense of trepidation and… _fear_? Why do they fear me? I'm a lowly human… they're _vampires_! They could kill me in one second flat! Then again, I have the vampire with me that was once; I am reliably informed, called 'Mr Crazy Vamp' who had the disease. Not entirely sure _who_ came up with what is probably the most unoriginal name known to man, but it was true. He is crazy. Just nowadays he has the sense to hide that under the normality that he fights everyday to keep it under wraps and remain being the sane and loveable man he strives to be.

So, we're now apparently the new focal point in town, the new exhibit in the zoo that the little kids just _have_ to go and see. But I ignore this as I walk beside Myrnin slowly towards the thinning crowd, just about able to hear the announcements through the thick wall of velvet that separates us from the room where we will be eating and then dancing later on.

"How long until we are needed?" Myrnin jumps straight in to ask the person who is lining up Anne Franklin and George Davies to be the next couple into the hall. This person – never seen them before – doesn't seem particularly happy that we are over here, bugging him in the midst of his _very_ important job.

"Myrnin of Conwy?" he confirms for some reason, this being what Myrnin nods his head hastily to. "Then you'll be about another fifteen minutes. You're the second to last, didn't you know?" his tone implies he, like Oliver, thinks Myrnin is a waste of time and effort with idiotic experiments that don't do anything.

Myrnin, affronted, shakes his head and rolls his eyes at the dude. Whoa… I never realised that Myrnin would actually realise when he is getting dissed: he normally is so calm and… well, actually, not calm but more… crazy. He is definitely bubbly though, and doesn't normally seem to care what others think of him. Yet now, however, he seems pretty pissed off.

"Amazingly, I _do_ know that I am the second to last to be announced," he snaps at the name caller (I don't know what else to call him) as he begins to whirl away. "You see, I am important in this town and I suppose I could destroy you if I-" he begins to threaten the person until I put a restraining arm on him and lead him away.

"Calm down and relax," I tell him sharply, not wanting to put up with an episode from him. After all, Amelie will _kill_ me if I let Myrnin ruin her party. For some reason, he reacts to my touch and lets me pull him to the other side of the room. "Myrnin, Amelie will _kill_ you if you mess anything up," I remind him sharply, turning him so that he is facing me. I shake both his shoulders to bring him back to me, him breathing heavily for some reason.

"I generally don't _like_ to get my hands dirty, so please explain _why_ I am killing Myrnin?" Amelie's cool voice stuns me from behind, scaring me out of my wits. I jump in the air and end up stumbling as I fall back down, my heels not exactly the most helpful thing to be wearing when you're doing that, until Myrnin grabs me. He steadies my arm and continues to hold onto me like before, making me fall into my little world again with just me and Myrnin.

"It doesn't matter," Myrnin says to her in response, realising somehow that I am entirely unable to speak. I don't know what's the matter with me… but my heart feels as if it is about to take off out of my chest for some reason. "You look stunning, Amelie, it's a shame you're with him," he snaps, of course, at his _true_ best friend Oliver.

Slowly, careful not to embarrass myself in heels, I turn around to instantly realise that I, whilst I may look better than normal, am absolutely _nothing_ compared to Amelie. She's slightly taller than me but she seems about 10 feet tall, the way that she holds herself. For once, her hair isn't pulled back but rather curled in corkscrew curls which are partially up at the back but mainly fall loosely over her shoulders, her white blonde hair almost camouflaging into her skin. The tangerine coloured dress ought to look absolutely disgusting but she makes it work entirely: no questions that if she was in the magazines for the Oscars or something she would be the one who got the 5 out of 5 rating. Myrnin's right… she looks truly amazing.

Oliver, surprisingly, looks pretty good as well: I realise he isn't as old as he appeared to be originally, the colour of his hair discreet with the way his hair is. He actually scrubbed up in a tux which surprises me, but if he is the escort of Amelie then he ought to…

"Claire, I am glad to see that you dressed appropriately in the dress I sent – there was a small worry I had that you would ignore it and end up wearing ghastly _jeans_," she shudders delicately at the end, a half smile on her face as she surveys me. The only time I have seen her _truly_ smile, with no bitterness or mocking in there, was when she was looking into Sam's face… never to any other person have I seen her properly smile. So half a smile is close enough, I think.

"I wouldn't dream of it," I reply promptly, deciding to quash the part of me that considered yesterday doing just that to piss her off because she wouldn't let Shane come with me. I guess, by the way she is now observing me, she can tell that this is a lie but I don't care… it's true enough for this moment: now I am dressed up to the nines, I wouldn't _dream_ of wearing jeans to this ball.

"Good," she responds finally, after a long pause. There is a tangible tension between Myrnin and Oliver but she ignores this, instead lingering longer. "Well, I believe you are going to be required in merely ten minutes now, Myrnin, so you can wait here. do not _dare_ to cause an argument or _anything_ with the caller as otherwise you will have your allowance for your 'discoveries' per year reduced to what Oliver makes on Christmas Day in Common Grounds: nothing. Do you understand?" she snaps at him, evidently wanting everything to be perfect. I do agree with that, however; if I were having a party, I wouldn't want someone else who is prone to ruining things turning up and destroying everything would I?

He nods slowly, respectfully, and ignores Oliver's gleeful look on his rather ugly face. I feel a rush of feeling for Myrnin, realising how he must be feeling to be reduced to nothing in front of someone he hates, and sorrow overtakes my body. I just want to comfort him… but that wouldn't be a good idea.

"I just need the toilet – be right back," I don't really need the toilet but I want to get out of this situation and get as far away from Myrnin as possible for a few minutes to clear my head. I just want to go back to a professional relationship with him, nothing more but nothing less either. Yet I seem to be drifting further and further towards the perilous line of wanting to almost have an _affair_ with him… but I don't really. Do I?

Although they seem rather suspicious, the three vampires, they do not question me and I am soon scurrying across the room to the corner, where the toilets are. I think that there are literally two humans here, perhaps three I don't know, so they're empty – I think vampires _do_ use the toilet, they just have no urges to go whatsoever. Strange… but I don't want to dissect what vampires do because I am _not_ a vampire and I want to spend this time here not thinking of vampires whatsoever.

I dig my phone out of my bag and ring Shane, deciding that I need to speak to him to apologise or just to hear his voice – either one, I don't care to be honest. But no matter how many times I ring, he never answers. It's as if he is screening my calls and just doesn't want to talk to me, putting me on silent to stop him having his little party in the pub on his own, or with his new friends.

After about five minutes, I decide that I have spent enough time in the toilet and if I spend much longer in here Myrnin will be looking for me. So I walk out of the marble room and find Myrnin waiting by the door for me, looking slightly shifty. It's strange… I can't explain why he looks shifty; he just does!

"Myrnin, why are you over here?" I ask him, curious for he was supposed to be waiting with Amelie and Oliver on the other side of the room!

"Amelie sent me away because she didn't want me arguing with her 'date'," he twists the word 'date' out of his mouth as if he doesn't want to accept that Amelie is with Oliver… _ew_! She is here in a _romantic capacity with Oliver_! I can't accept that; she is supposed to be entirely hung up on _Sam_, not moving on with Oliver as if nothing happened!

"Ew," I say, looking across the room at the couple who don't seem particularly romantic – but when does Amelie ever show her feelings? Yet the way that she has let him move closer to her and _she is wearing the same flower as he is_… it makes me think that there could at least be the inkling of something there.

"My thoughts _exactly_," Myrnin agrees with me before we hear the caller person announcing that it is time for us to go into the ball. I get a rush of fear as I realise that they are all going to be looking at us entering the room: everyone but Amelie and Oliver is in there already and we are next. "Well, my little Claire, are you ready to be seen by the entire population of vampires?" he does nothing for my confidence as I begin to shake, his grip on my arm the only thing that keeps me standing.

"Don't say anything about it," I say through gritted teeth, not entirely sure why he is trying to make me nervous. "Otherwise I _will_ puke all over you and I don't think you would want that," I continue, shuddering as I think about it.

"Don't you _dare_ otherwise Bob may be making a little trip into your room," he threatens me back… EW! I hate Bob so much – why would he put him in my room? "Come on, Ms Danvers, we are ready to be announced."

"Lord Myrnin of Conwy with his attendant, Claire Danvers," the John person who was announcing at the welcome feast for Bishop says as we emerge at the top of the stairs, ready to walk down into the room. I feel as if I'm about to collapse as I walk down the stairs slowly, Myrnin keeping a slow pace for me, with all the eyes on me. People are sat at tables of four, Michael and Eve with Lucy and George, two vampires who aren't _too_ bad: I take it that because we are 'guests of honour' with Myrnin's age and my bracelet, we're going to be sitting with Amelie and Oliver. Whoop!

Finally we make it to the bottom of the stairs and Myrnin leads me to the table in the centre of the room: yep, we're sitting with Amelie and Oliver. Every single person is looking at me and I get the sense that they are talking, but I can't hear them with my weak ears – something which they're probably banking on. Myrnin, however, looks rather smug at their words and I want to ask him… but there isn't time.

For, you see, Amelie and Oliver are being called and they are appearing at the top of the stairs. Everyone, thankfully, averts their attention to them and I get the sense that everyone is thinking that she is the most beautiful woman to have ever graced the earth: the effects of her dress and such are exacerbated at the top of the stairs, with the candlelight shining on them so perfectly. It makes the evening seem as if we are in the mid 1800s, so classy and perfect.

"Once again, you look stunning," Myrnin compliments Amelie as she sits down, Oliver moving her chair out as Myrnin did for me. As soon as she is seated, the rest of the room begin to chat quietly amongst themselves, as if her appearance was what allowed this to happen.

"I suppose you made yourself presentable," Amelie sniffs, evidently annoyed with Myrnin from whatever happened earlier when I was 'in the toilet'. "Now, let us eat _without_ any arguing for, I, for one, cannot abide to listen to it," she orders sternly, looking at the men who sat at diagonals so that they were further apart with a fierce expression.

I cross my hands on my lap, feeling the bracelet on my arm digging in. it seems to cool down slightly but I don't know why; Amelie doesn't seem to be doing anything but if she is, she isn't making it obvious. I can't tell why I am suddenly feeling slightly too cold – maybe it's the hunger I have; those pizzas didn't exactly do that much for me.

The food is suddenly served to us and as I eat the tomato soup carefully, not wanting to spill it down myself: something tells me that Amelie wouldn't be happy about sitting with me if I behave like a child and spill my food down me. The cold feeling disappears slightly but I still feel that something is wrong somewhere, but what? I can absolutely _positively_ tell that it isn't Amelie doing anything, for she is entirely focused on her soup and appearing like a lady. Appearances are everything to her and she couldn't do anything if it meant that she would succumb that image of perfection.

"Excuse me," I whisper, a sense of something being _majorly_ wrong hitting me at this current moment in time. Amelie looks disapproving as I scrape my chair back and dash towards the toilet, feeling as if I am going to be sick, or collapse at the same time.

I slam my back against the door and dig my phone out of my little clutch to find Richard has rung me. "Hello?" I ask as he answers the phone when I ring him back. Something makes me think that there is something wrong with Shane, that he has done something stupid in his anger that I came here with Myrnin.

"Claire, it's Richard," he says unnecessarily. "I need you to tell Amelie to call me back because it is important," he continues, sounding harassed and more frazzled than I thought possible.

"Richard, she's having a party: she isn't going to want to be disturbed for _work_," I inform him, the tightening of my lungs showing that this is bad – it's nothing to do with Shane, I don't think, but there are _many_ things in this world that could be bad.

"Oh, she will be bothered," he says grimly.

"What is it then?" I ask, not wanting to go and take the phone to Amelie as she will be pissed at me… and that isn't something which exactly lengthens your life in Morganville.

"Let's just say that if Amelie doesn't want a revolt on her hands," he says simply, indicating that there is something wrong.

"Wait, what do you mean, Richard, that there will be a revolt? The town is only _just_ back from Bishop mere months ago – I doubt that even the people of _this_ town will want to go back to mayhem this quickly!" I laugh, albeit slightly manically, but the frightening absence of noise on the other end suggests that he isn't kidding me.

"Claire, nine people have gone missing in the graveyard in the past _week_; I think that this warrants me to speak to Amelie," he properly snaps at me, the number almost making me drop the phone in shock.

That'll _definitely_ be for Amelie then.

* * *

**What did ya think then?**

**What do you think is up with the town? Who is the murderer? **

**Please review! :) if you do, I'll update soon & the new little twistie will be revealed... with claire/Myrnin moments soon? Only time will tell... **

**SO REVIEW!**

**Vicky xx**


	5. Return

**Chapter 5:**

**Wow, here already!**

**And this is the **_**third**_** chapter set in pretty much the same couple of hours. Seems weird!**

***Lindsey, thank you for your review! *is shocked* is it better than my trilogy (soon to be saga _if I get more reviews - hint hint -)_ of Claire/Myrnin's? *is hurt* loool... it isn't as long... yet... lol. thanks again & I am glad you like it!**

* * *

_Claire's POV:_

"Let me go and grab her – but she isn't going to be happy about being disturbed in the middle of her party, Richard," I say grimly, unable to believe it. Seriously, nine people missing in the same place in a _week_? That just doesn't happen… not even in Morganville.

I begin to walk towards the door to get out of the bathroom when he responds. "Unfortunately, Claire, I don't see that a party can be more important than the deaths of nine people in the same place in such a short time," he responds to my statement about Amelie and her social bee status without a qualm. "I have to say, I don't think that I have seen the residents of this town _this_ up in arms since… Bishop," he barely says Bishop's name, it being a whisper compared to the rest of the sentence.

"Well he wanted to destroy everyone… but surely this isn't as bad as then?" I ask, my brow furrowing in confusion. I mean, come _on_. This may be bad… but at least we don't have some medieval vampire, thought to be dead, back and trying to control everyone. Oh, and managing to for six months whilst Amelie and her followers were in hiding.

He laughs, albeit extremely grimly and slightly sarcastically. "They don't see it like that, Claire, not out there. _We_ know that Bishop was the worst thing to happen to this town but to them, all they knew was that there was someone more powerful than Amelie and that they were a vampire. Nothing changed for them besides the name of the ruler. No more humans died and the only reason they got worked up was because of the final night of Bishop's reign… but this. Here, they are losing loved ones and there is no reason for it: since Sam died, there was supposed to be more equality not the other way around."

I can see his point… truly, if I hadn't had to be so involved in the intricate plans of Bishop and Amelie, being a pawn for the latter for the entire time, I wouldn't have noticed pretty much any difference.

The only _major_ difference was the death warrants. But even they could be resolved… but now, with Amelie back in power, it's supposed to be safer. However, with nine people dead in a _week_ in the graveyard, that isn't good. That _really_ isn't good.

"I'll go get her. Give me two minutes," I say hurriedly, opening the bathroom door. He doesn't respond, simply waits for me to go find Amelie to hand her my phone… not that I expect to be getting it back or anything. Her self control when it comes to breakable objects like phones seems to be a _little_ on the low side…

As I walk out of the bathroom, it hits me how _normal_ everyone is. Well, as normal as vampires can be. They're just sitting and chatting and having a normal time, like you would at a ball. None of them know anything strange is going on… even though one of these is probably the culprit behind the murders. Or a bunch of them in here, I don't know. But they are the murderers, not me… yet the way that the music (soft and classical, exactly Amelie's style) is still playing makes me almost think that I have dreamt this entire conversation up,

I return to my table and see Myrnin turn to look at me with a rather harried and embarrassed expression. Whether or not I _want_ to know what has caused him to show these emotions so readily (not usually the case for Mr Myrnin) is a matter for another day.

Amelie doesn't react as I approach the table, not even when I walk around the wrong way as I head for her rather than my seat. She simply continues to talk to Oliver and blank my ever nearing existence, until I am merely half a metre behind her. _Then_ she talks, "Claire, I believe you have misapprehended your seat. It is over _that_ side of the table."

I clear my throat and hand my phone out to her, evidently confusing her because why would _I_ be handing her _my_ phone?

"Richard wants to talk to you – it's important," I say quietly, as so that the other vampires in the room don't hear. Still, Oliver and Myrnin instantly zone in on Amelie, who turns to look at me with an angered expression.

"This is a _ball_, Claire, there is no need to work: Richard knows it is a life or death situation _only_ for him to contact me," she hisses, barely audible over the loud music. I'd have thought the vamps would have it all quiet; not like they have an issue with hearing it, is it?

"Amelie, let him at least explain; it _could_ be life or death," I urge, leaving the phone by her hand. She sighs, her face adamantly annoyed with me, but she takes the phone from my hand.

"Yes?" she questions Richard in her harshest tone as I slide around the table and into my seat. As soon as I am seated, Myrnin grabs my arm and pulls me in closer to him… something about the closeness of this contact causes a shiver to run down my spine, making me instantly more aware of every single bit of skin that his hand is touching.

I breathe heavier as I process this through before his words disrupt my thoughts. "What's going on?"

Oliver snorts; breaking the tension I only just realise is present between me and Myrnin. It's as if we were in our own little world; the music had died down and the only thing I could think of was Myrnin and the way that his hand was on my arm. It worries me that I am thinking like that… it's sort of proving Shane's point but for one thing: I haven't acted on those emotions and I'm not going to.

"Listen," I point to the phone which is pressed against Amelie's ear, her expression not changing one bit as she listens to Richard informing her that there have been nine deaths in a week. She isn't saying anything but I know Myrnin and Oliver _must_ be able to hear the other side of the conversation…

They both listen intently to Richard, letting a little shock into their expression as he evidently relays the information: _what_ he is saying, I don't know, but it cannot be good.

"I shall deal with it tomorrow, goodbye Richard," Amelie says coolly before hanging up the phone. She then hands it across the table to me, her eyes glazing over slightly with anger and authority – probably showing to me that _she_ is in charge and will decide when things are done. If she wants her ball, so be it. Just if the town goes poof in that time, don't blame me.

"Amelie, I'm sure you ought to do something tonight," I say in an extremely low tone, so nobody can hear. But she ignores me, simply standing up and rolling her eyes before motioning to someone, which makes the room fall instantly silent…

Myrnin nudges my arm as she begins to speak about how _wonderful_ it is that they are all here and that they are going to have a _brilliant_ time dancing throughout the night. I turn to him, wondering what he wants, when he suddenly averts his handsome face from my eyes and focuses on writing a hurried note on the cloth napkin with the fountain pen he _insists_ on carrying around. It's broken so many times he has had to buy about five million replacements (each one, amazingly, worse than the last) but he doesn't 'believe' in using a biro, therefore he won't.

_**Claire, how much do you know?**_

I frown at him as he hands me the cloth and the pen, wondering what he means. It can only be to do with the entire nine murders, as what _else_ is there to know about? It's not as if I know that he is planning on… erm, blowing up the town with a bomb.

_**I know that there have been 9 deaths in the graveyard in a week & that the humans are getting pissed. Apparently we're not far off of an uprising. Is there more?**_

I push this back to him and this time _he_ frowns before hastily replying as Amelie is_ still _talking.

_**Yes, there is more. When she has **_**finally**_** finished talking, I will take you in the back and explain. It is vitally important… I can't believe… actually, this is Amelie**_

He descends into his usual ramblings, but something about his words shows he is worried for her, but also for something else. I can't describe it… but if Myrnin is worried, then we all ought to be running away. After all, he is always so upbeat and insanely happy, however now he… he seems as if he has done something and he is regretting it.

I'm about to push this on, when I realise he has focused in on Amelie, so I do the same…

"…now, this is the time for the annual ball to reach the dancing stage, so if you would all like to take your partners to the dancefloor in the other room, we can begin," she calls, a proud smile on her face. It's as if she can only be happy when she is in the public eye and so utterly regal. But she has worried me; I thought she was more human now, since Sam died, that his death had invoked the inner human. However, the way she has just brushed aside the deaths of nine of her residents 'for another day' suggests that, no matter _what_ she said, _her_ people come first.

There is a flurry of movement and people begin to move around, heading towards the ballroom. Amelie throws me a look of contempt, probably for attempting to get some focus on humans, before taking Oliver's arm and walking through with him. the way that they are walking makes me want to gag; it's as if I'm seeing the few moments I saw Sam and Amelie together but with less love there, as if the love has only came about because of the experiences shared in the past.

"Are we going?" I ask Myrnin, who is still seated in the chair and shows no signs of planning to move. My words seem to jolt him out of a reverie and he looks up at me, his expression worried once again. The way he _continues_ to be concerned for these events suggests that there really _is_ something to be worried about, that Amelie is being stupid in not doing anything whatsoever.

He moves suddenly, his hand shooting out to grab my arm. It's similar to when he touched me earlier, every nerve aware that his hand is on me. It's strange though, because I never get that with Shane… however, unlike earlier, his grip is almost too tight and I get the impression that he is trying to regulate his strength. Yet the worry is causing him to lapse back to the way he was before, when he was ill, and he isn't being careful enough. I wince and he realises that his grip is too tight, releasing me to almost free but still being in control.

"Come with me," he says, slipping out with me out of the tabled area and in the opposite direction of all the perfectly dressed vampires. The way that I'm dressed in this absolutely perfect dress, but running away, sends the strangest feeling of elopement through me – strange, right?

We rush into the far corner where there is a small room, the door of which Myrnin holds open for me so I walk through. He closes the door behind himself and for a second we are in the pitch black, something which scares me because, well, _being in the dark with a vampire isn't the best idea_! Even a vampire I sort of trust, like Myrnin, isn't the best idea, since they can see everything that is around whilst I'm just entirely in the dark. Literally, I'm a standing duck if anything went on.

With a sudden _snap_, Myrnin reaches out and turns the light on, to reveal a small room, grand but almost forgotten about. It's small but cosy… and there aren't any monsters in here. That's always a bonus.

"You, of course, know that there are nine humans dead and there is a possibility of a revolution?" Myrnin gets straight down to business, not bothering with his usual tirade of unnecessary ramblings.

"Yes," I respond quietly, looking straight into his face. I want to make sure that he isn't going to fob me off or tell me untruths… but why would he have brought me in here if he wasn't going to tell me something else? I mean, it was easy enough for him not to have even told me and I would have thought that there was absolutely nothing else than what I already know.

He sits down in the chair and looks away from my face, but I know that there is no point in him lying. So he's going to tell me the truth…

"Claire, the bodies are all appearing in the same place in the graveyard – there is not one body that has been discovered in a place more than 10m from the first body," he says gravely – what does this mean? Surely that means that it will be easier to find the culprit.

"So that means that we will be able to find them quicker?" I ask Myrnin this, ignoring the perfection of _him_ as I focus on those dead humans. I can't do anything right now that could do anything to disrupt my attempts to get justice for them.

He doesn't respond to this, simply stares into the corner, seeming hallowed by the knowledge he has. "That doesn't help us whatsoever, or at least Amelie," he finally says, his voice low. Then he turns around to face me once again, his face matching his voice. "Claire, as well as the humans going missing, there is something else. Sam's grave is open and the coffin in pieces," he _finally_ gets to what he was going to tell me…

Oh.

My.

God.

Sam has been _stolen_; someone _has stolen the body of a dead man_!

"What?" I gasp, staggering backwards in shock. Someone has stolen Sam, the dead saviour of this town. He died for us all; he isn't there anymore…

"It doesn't look as if any foul play is involved," Myrnin adds, which confuses me as I can't comprehend anything.

"Myrnin, the damned _body_ is gone: I doubt a dead man is able to do that," I snap at him as soon as I can move my lips again. The rest of my body, however, is a lost cause.

He turns away from me and whispers, "I _knew_ I shouldn't have done it for him," which confuses me. I don't see the point in what he said, but I get the idea that I wasn't supposed to hear it.

"What does this mean then?" I ask him quietly, not able to get what is going on. "Wait… Amelie knows this. Why isn't she doing anything to try and get him back? I mean… has Oliver managed to replace Sam _that _much in her mind?" I continue, my shoulders sagging slightly. She has truly abandoned the one who loved her so dearly, if this is the case.

Myrnin shrugs but takes my arm, causing the tingling to return in my arm. I deliberately avert my eyes from his so that I don't end up doing something I _know_ I will regret: after all, _I have a boyfriend_. That's a pretty big thing, to be honest.

"Let's go to the dance or she'll have a search party out for us," he suggests, but this only causes me to glower.

"Yeah, she'd waste the people she should be using to find out who killed all those people and stole Sam on locating us," I agree grimly, stalking out of the room without waiting for Myrnin. However, his grip on my arm means that I can't get more than about a metre away from him before he is caught up with me – vampire speed.

"Relax, little one," he instructs me gently, managing to wipe the fear and worry from his face for the first time since he heard the phone call earlier. It's as if the entire saga never happened: he's back to how he was when we were waiting to be announced to the vampires. It's a strange thing, but it helps me to relax. After all, I need to appear as normal as possible before I verbally attack Amelie – as quickly as possible, I think, otherwise I'll loose my nerve.

We walk slowly, well slowly for Myrnin, towards the room where I can hear a band playing soft sounding music. As we approach the door, I can see the movement of bodies; every single person in the room is dancing and appearing to be having a good time. I have to say, I have never seen some of these vampires having such a good time before… strange, isn't it? That they can all be having a good time, that _Amelie_ can be having a good time, yet humans are dying. They can be having a good time when there is a chance that the humans are going to be launching a revolt on them as soon as tomorrow morning.

"Relax, my Claire," Myrnin instructs me, the words seeming almost too intimate. The word 'my' suggests as if he is trying to make me his, something which is entirely impossible because I am already dating the love of my life. It isn't because he is a vampire, not particularly, but Shane is the one who I love.

We move into the ballroom and onto the edge of the dancefloor. Here, he takes my arm and places it on his waist, putting the other one on his shoulder, whilst one of his wraps around my waist and the other around my upper torso. It's so romantic but it's how you dance, especially when his face peers down into my own. All I can see is his face, see his almost black orbs for eyes boring into my own. His, as usual, are unreadable as he begins to dance, pulling me along with him. What a surprise; he knows how to dance perfectly in time with the music, sweeping me around the room in huge movements that end up taking centre stage.

Of course, Myrnin wouldn't be able to keep out of the spotlight.

People begin to notice us as we dance, the momentum increasing as my breathing does. I am entirely locked in his face, observing every square inch of the perfection that is his skin, looking at the way that his features are in perfect proportion to each other. His hair is bouncy and utterly loveable and every thought of anything _but _him drifts out of my mind as I contemplate how perfect this dance is.

I can just about hear the music changing and I can tell from something in his face, that he is preparing for a big finale. Everyone now has stopped to watch us, including Amelie and Oliver, and as the music reaches the peak before the end, he throws me high into the air. It feels _fantastic_ to be free of everything, to be higher than anything else in the room. Even as I fall back to earth, I don't feel worried because I know Myrnin will catch me without fail.

Finally, I land in his arms, him clutching me to his chest carefully. I look up and lock into his eyes which, for a few seconds, I can read. I see everything that a part of me _wants_ to see: love, adoration, intensity… everything I know I must be showing him. An abstract part of me can hear the vampires clapping but I can't see anything but Myrnin, be able to do anything but stare into his face.

After what feels like an eternity and a second at the same time, he sets me down on the floor and bows to me, kissing my hand in a gentlemanly fashion. I blush and smile back – at least, I _think_ I smile back since I have no control over my facial expressions – as the music starts up and people begin to dance again.

I look over the other side of the room and see Michael staring intently in my direction. His expression… it's as if he thinks he has seen something which confirms a prior knowledge that he had, something which afflicts nothing on his emotions but just to know something, if that makes sense. He doesn't register my looking at him, simply turning away to whisper something to Eve. For the first time, I wish I had vampire hearing to be able to find out what he is saying… but I don't _want_ to be a vampire and I'm not going to be something that Shane hates. I am _not_.

"Drink?" Myrnin suggests with a smile, motioning to the small table which is probably just for me... after all, the other humans here aren't exactly ones that register on Amelie's radar. I nod, amazed that Amelie hasn't ordered it to be removed since I angered her so about the entire speaking to Richard on the phone thing.

I take a long, slow gulp of water from the bottle and regulate my breathing as much as possible whilst looking around the room. Embarrassment floods me as I realise just _what_ I did with Myrnin – the entire pose – with the entire population of vampires watching! I studiously ignore him as I look at various couples dancing before focusing in on Amelie.

Her tangerine coloured dress fans out around her as she dances with Oliver, entirely unconcerned as to Sam and everything else that is going on. Yet the dance ends quickly and I see her looking around for someone, as if she doesn't want to spend anymore time with Oliver.

However, then she turns back to him and smiles, a smile which rips me to my inner core. She is supposed to be loyal to the damned man _who died for her_. Generally, people stay loyal to the ones who do something so generous, after spending every day of their vampire life loving her. But no, she 'loves Oliver' now. Of course she does.

"Myrnin," she greets him coolly and I start to realise she is standing in front of us without Oliver. I was focusing so much on how much she has betrayed Sam that I never realised that she had moved positions.

"Amelie," Myrnin replies in the same tone of voice, sharing a look with her that I doubt I want to be able to read. Conversely, I can't see it anyway so that isn't an issue… but… surely, since she is alone, I can drag her away _now_ and yell at her about Sam?

Her attention turns to me as soon as I realise this, her expression frosty and cold to me. My bracelet tingles as her anger spreads through her into me through the connection we have because she owns me. If she wanted to, she could order me to jump off a bridge and I would have to do so, or die.

"Claire," she says my name in a voice that could probably make ice seem as if it was boiling… which isn't good.

"Can I have a word with you?" I ask her in a polite voice, inclining my head towards the small room I _know_ is in the corner of this room. Myrnin, of course, looks horrified and I get the idea that he isn't supposed to have told me. Obviously: vampire business is vampire business; I may have saved them all a bunch of times but that still doesn't make me an equal.

It simply makes me a very stupid human.

"I think that that would be a bad idea," Myrnin hisses, turning to me, trying to make me not go with her through the power of his eyes. Yet it doesn't work: I think I deserve the chance to push her about why she is doing this to Sam, to give Sam's argument even though he isn't here.

She shakes her head and smiles, albeit it controlled and entirely without emotion. "The child wishes to speak to me, therefore she shall," by calling me 'the child', I get the idea that she is more than a bit pissed with me. Ahhh well, I'm more than a bit pissed at her so we're equal.

But something tells me that _her_ pissed is more important than mine. Figures.

She strides away towards the room I pointed out without a word and I am about to follow her when Myrnin, once _again_, grabs my arm. "Don't tell her anything about what I told you, Claire, otherwise…" he trails off as I shake my head.

"I have to, Myrnin. See you later."

With that, I follow Amelie towards the room and scuttle inside, shutting the door behind me. It is slightly bigger than the other room and better furnished but she doesn't turn a light on, simply uses a candle to light her face. It casts the majority of herself into shadow and I swallow loudly.

"Speak, Claire," she orders me harshly as I am silent for almost three minutes.

"Sam's body has been nabbed and you don't care!" I explode at her, my voice like knives cutting through the air as I verbally attack her. She flinches back involuntarily at the venom in my voice and I use this power drive to continue. "Not to mention the fact that there are nine of _my_ people dead! You promised when Sam died that we would be more equal but we're not. You don't give a _toss_ about a human in this town, do you?" I continue.

She stands still and silent for a moment before speaking so deathly quietly that I regret every single word when she says one. "Is that it?"

I _want_ to agree here and say yes, but there is one more thing I _have_ to say.

"No."

Her eyebrows raise but she motions for me to continue, probably going to kill me when I'm finished. Still, if these are my final words, I don't think I'll care.

"You may have loved Sam but now, I think you love Oliver more. And that's disgusting: you let him _die_ for you and now you've all but forgotten him, not even bothering to get his body back?" I say my final piece, shrinking back from the growing anger in her eyes. The emotion breaks through her mask, scaring me more than I would care to admit.

"You are one _very_ silly girl," she snarls at me, her fangs falling down effortlessly and only reinforcing how inhuman she is. "You think that I don't care for Sam? You think I don't love him, don't miss him _every_ second of the day? You _dare _to insinuate that Oliver has more of a place in my heart… oh, I would _really_ not want to be in your shoes now," she continues, growling from deep in her throat.

I step back from the anger in her voice, stumbling over my shoes as I lean against the door.

"I'm sorry," I whisper but she doesn't seem to hear me, her expression entirely feral.

She throws the candle across the room but it doesn't catch fire, simply makes the room descend into darkness. I can no longer see her expression, for which I am grateful, but the flash of her fangs scares me even more. She reaches out and grabs my arm, squeezing it with more force than even Myrnin did earlier, causing me to wince and gasp in pain but she doesn't seem to notice. Or if she does, she deliberately keeps her grip tight to cause me pain.

"I have already sent my people to the graveyard, Claire; do you _really_ think I don't care for humans, not to mention _Sam_?" she says, her voice so much softer. That is until it hardens when she continues, "However, my love life is absolutely _none_ of your business. I don't care whether or not you thought you were vilifying Sam, _never interfere with my love life again_," she hisses the last part at me and I shudder, wishing I had never said anything. I can see that she does still love Sam but she also loves Oliver… complicated.

"I'm sorry," I repeat and this time she seems to hear me.

"For this, _you_ and Myrnin can take charge of finding out what is going on," she snaps at me, pushing me away from her gently. By gently, I mean gently for a vampire. I still fall into the wall on the other side of the room, the impact causing a painful shock through my already tender arm. "I can tell that he knows something more in this situation and he shouldn't have a single idea… therefore, you two are in charge of finding _my_ Sam. If you don't… then I will _not_ be responsible for my actions," she continues, her tone entirely threatening.

Oh shit.

* * *

**So, whatcha think? Ideas about what's coming up?**

**Please review! 10 reviews and I will update… nothing less. BUT, if I get the 10 reviews, I'll put the names in a hat and the winner can choose a oneshot: running this again on all stories, I think.**

**Vicky xx**


	6. Ultimatum

**Chapter 5:**

**~thank you SOOOO much to Madelyn Grey who gave me an idea that basically took this story in an **_**entirely**_** different direction… sorta… yeah, this shall be revealed through this chapter & the next~**

**I don't own anything besides the plot… which partially belongs to the aforementioned person.**

* * *

_Myrnin's POV (simply because it's only been Claire for a couple of chappys):_

When she danced with me, I _know_ she felt something for me. I know she did. I could see it in her eyes, when she locked eyes with me; a jolt connected the two of us. But she has gone off with Amelie, of course, to discuss the information that I told her _that I shouldn't have_! Trust _my_ Claire to have to rush off and tell the _one_ person that she shouldn't… no, one of the _two_ people she should not have told, the other being Amelie's _lovely_ new lover, Oliver. I cannot believe that she has moved on with him: there is a difference between _sleeping _with someone and being in a relationship and I have a feeling she isn't even doing the first.

And now, her paramour is back, the one she loved 'so much' and was devastated when he died. But _Claire should not tell her that she knows_! She may be a great asset to Amelie, but that is it: Amelie cares nothing for my feelings – if she deemed Claire to know too much, or to be an annoyance, she would dispose of her in a flash. That is just how important a human is to Amelie, the only exception being Sam.

And even he turned into a vampire for her.

I wonder, just perhaps, if I run away now, Amelie won't find me until _after_ she has killed Claire and alleviated some of her anger that I told her about Sam's state of missingness. I am a coward but I would rather be a living coward than one who has to fight Amelie – and lose, as her display at the prison with Jason showed – and then just dies anyway. I think that Bob would miss me the most, for Claire would already be dead… a plus side to dying, however, is not having to explain to her little friends as to why she is dead.

I begin to slink away out of the corner as I realise that the conversation must be almost over, that Claire's death must be imminent, but then Oliver steps in front of me. He is the most _annoying_ vampire I have ever had the misfortune of crossing paths with… and he is now 'dating' Amelie. This is going to make me puke sometime soon… unfortunately.

"What do you want?" I snap at him as I down a whiskey shot in one; if I'm near the refreshment table, I may as well down a few of my favourite tipple! I dump the glass down on the table and grab a couple of O negative blood shots – interesting refreshments – and he rolls his eyes before nabbing one from me. "I am amazed that you are actually risking your life to take one of _my_ blood shots," I snap at him, desperation as I wait for the door to open and a blood covered Amelie to step out.

He, once again, rolls his eyes and focuses his attention on the same door as myself. "What has happened to make _Myrnin_, the jester, appear so worried? Claire tell you that she is actually in love with that Collins boy and not interested in you?" he laughs at his own joke, albeit a hard noise that brings no humour into the situation _whatsoever_.

"No, not at all," I respond… "Wait… how did _you_ know that?" I inquire suspiciously, wondering if Oliver has managed to develop his technological skills – he did, after all, live alone in the modern world for a few decades – enough to bug my lab or Amelie's office… surely not.

He looks astonished before smug… of course, this is Oliver we are talking about – when does he _not_ look smug? "You really _are_ a fool, aren't you?" he says, sounding increduled. "If someone paid me a penny for every time your infatuation with the human was mentioned to me, I could afford to buy the entire city of New York… before you say anything, Amelie didn't betray you," he continues, defending the honour of his… Amelie. She isn't his and she never will be: part of my role as her oldest friend is ensuring she does not make decisions which could destroy her. After all, trusting _Oliver_ could be her demise.

"Oliver, did you hear the conversation dear Richard had with Amelie earlier?" I ask innocently, ignoring his comments as I ignore him normally.

"Yes, why?" he inquires suspiciously, wondering what relevance the missing state of Sam's body could have… oh, if only he knew what link there is between Amelie and Sam, he would never have tried to snare her for himself.

"You know the person who was being discussed?" I talk cryptically as so that the other vampires in the room do not hear Amelie's business… I don't want to die anyway, let alone painfully and in a mutilated manner by the room finding out that Sam has been stolen. "Well, Amelie isn't going to leave them behind, is she? Stop kidding yourself that you could be together because _it isn't going to happen_."

I grin impishly, letting my natural charm shine through as his natural evilness returns. Unfortunately, my internal gloating causes me not to pay attention to his fists, so as his connects with the side of my face, I stumble. "There was no need for that!" I snap at him as I crash into the refreshments table, the glutton of alcohol and blood (which had an alcoholic tinge to it) causing my reflexes to not be sharp enough. It isn't as if it hurts my body but it _does_ cover my jacket in perfectly good alcohol that has now been rendered impossible to drink.

I sit up and kick him right where it hurts, the dancing vampires stopping to observe the fight which _could_ have gone so much further – and ending in my victory – if Amelie had not appeared.

Fury is not even comparable to the emotion shown in her eyes, her stance, as she looks down at us, fangs out in anger. Her eyes are blazing silver and only heighten the anger… which apparently is already there in my case, since I informed Claire of what is going on with dear Samuel.

"Get. Up. Now." She hisses at me and I move fluidly to be standing next to her, brushing some of the liquid from my jacket. Behind her, I notice Claire – she hasn't been murdered, which is always a good thing – but I avert my gaze from her and refocus on Amelie… I wish I hadn't though. "Oliver, you stay here – I shall talk to you later. Myrnin, come with me," she snaps at me, striding off in the direction of the room she just exited with Claire and expecting me to follow. She looks like a Phoenix with the anger emulating around her, the power so ferocious: it reminds me of the time when Bishop was free _again_ (until _I_ saved everyone) and she was proving that she was the most powerful person around…

I scurry after her, realising my life can only be shortened if I don't, and unfortunately have to walk into the room with her. I notice her standing by the door which I am _barely_ through by the time she slams it shut, the frame reverberating. Thankfully, I remember building this room to be soundproof (rather, making the blueprints to have it soundproofed; I am not some manual labourer) so none of the vampires outside can listen in.

"You _fool_!" she hisses at me, her hand reaching out to strike my face in the exact place where Oliver punched me. It isn't as if it hurts, but it _could_ have damaged my looks if I were human still.

"Funny, I can't remember doing anything in the last while that could cause such a derogatory name to be used to describe me," I feign ignorance as I attempt to move away from her; all she does, however, is move with me, her movements sharp and entirely feral.

"You told Claire that Sam has been stolen; Myrnin, how _could_ you?" she cries and her angry façade falls to reveal the injured and broken woman beneath. That is what I think, however, until her hand grabs my throat _again_ and she slams me to the floor, her nails digging into my throat. It cuts off the unnecessary breathing I do but causes blood to spill out onto the once pristine collar of my shirt. "Listen to me, Myrnin, and listen well. You cause me quite possibly the _most_ agony and I am sick of it. I could destroy you right now and it wouldn't cause me any qualms, merely remove rather a _huge_ load from my plate. You understand?" she hisses and I nod.

"Whilst I would _love_ to give you a more detailed explanation, I am running out of air and your fingernails – whilst they are a _lovely_ shade of green – are digging into my airways," I use the last of my breath to answer, my usual charming and interesting tone to my voice. So she releases me, shaking the blood from her fingers over me. As the wound heals, I hand her the handkerchief in my pocket, as I did in the prison, something which she takes without a change in her facial expression.

"I am serious, Myrnin, _why_ did you tell her?" she asks me as she takes a seat in the armchair of the small room we are in. it is rather charming and I can see where she has lost her temper with Claire – such a short length now, since she relinquished her perfect hold on herself the other month – with a candle in pieces on the other side of the room.

I sit upright but stay away from her, not trusting her right now, before answering. "She had the right to know, Amelie. She is integral to Morganville now and to not inform her of such huge things in the politics here is not right."

"And I suppose it has _nothing_ to do with the fact you quite blatantly love her and you have even confessed this to me?" she retorts angrily, sensing there is more to the story than I admitted.

"I would say that that is the truth," I am extremely vague with my answer, not identifying which direction I take her statement to be for the usual answer would be 'yes', but my opposition could be confusing her. Oh, it is a hard job, to be this confusing for people!

"Let me make it _quite_ clear for you, Myrnin," she snaps at me, moving closer to the door as she speaks. "Since you informed Claire of this information that I, in hindsight, did not forbid you to share – a mistake I shall not be making again – I have deemed it to be a good idea for you _both_ to investigate the theft of my Samuel. Do I make myself perfectly clear?" she says… no, no, no, no, NO, NO, _NO_!

"You can't let her investigate… please, Amelie, don't," I beg her not caring about sounding weak because _she cannot get involved_. Yet Amelie's eyebrows only raise as I contest her 'authority', her contemplating what my words could mean.

"Do you know something further than what I do?" she asks me quietly, each word like a dagger shooting into my side. How to answer… do I answer honestly and confess my part in this? Or, to save myself for a little longer, do I lie and hope that she cannot see through it?

It is obvious which choice I take.

"I know nothing, Amelie, I just do not want a human to be involved in a situation which involves nine dead ones and a missing vampire who is supposed to be _dead_," I answer fluidly, hopefully disguising my lies. After all, I managed to lie to Bishop for six months… but I _was_ half crazed then, though I pretended to be crazier than I was to allow myself more leeway.

She looks suspiciously at me but evidently cannot find anything to dispute with me so simply continues with her statements… "If that is the case, then there is no dispute: Claire _will_ work with you to find out who took my Sam. After all, if you _love_ her, you will protect her no matter what, won't you?" she smiles at me sweetly but the undertone to it… it's truly evil, as if she is finally showing that she is her father's daughter.

"Of course," I answer in a sharp tone, no longer caring about being polite when she has no qualms about putting Claire in danger. Perhaps this is her revenge for me telling Claire the secret regarding 'her' Samuel. "Maybe we ought to return to the party… after all, you don't want to leave your _date_, Oliver, alone do you?" I slip in the snide comment about how she has evidently moved on from her 'darling Sam', causing her eyes to narrow at me. Yet she does not contest it, which is the thing I have been worried about the most… perhaps my actions have been rendered useless and shall have only caused pain on all sides, rather than showing the lengths to which people shall, foolishly, go to for love.

She stalks out of the room and I follow her, looking for Claire. We must leave the party now to begin our work… but I feel that I need to tell her about my involvement first.

This ought to be _fun_.

* * *

_Claire's POV (Myrnin's was _supposed_ to only be a couple of hundred, not over 2000!)_

I cannot believe that he was fighting with Oliver _in public_! It isn't that _I_ don't condone, for when would a vampire listen to what a lowly human says, but that Amelie will be furious. I half expected her to rip Myrnin limb from limb where he lay and for her to dump Oliver on the spot. But, this being Amelie, she took Myrnin into another room to rip into him – with her temperament recently, I would take that literally – so that the rest of us could not listen in.

Unsurprisingly, Oliver stormed off so it left me there alone, until Michael and Eve came over to make sure I was ok: not a good idea, leaving a human who has a rather fast heartbeat on account of the whole 'Amelie mentally torturing me' thing that went on in a room full of vampires, I don't think.

"CB, what is _up_ with everyone of late?" Eve asks me as she stands with me in the corner, but I can't tell her anything. If _I_ shouldn't even know, she, someone who is barely condoned by the community, has no chance of knowing.

So I shrug my shoulders and try and fob her off with, "Everyone seems to be pissed with each other because Amelie came with Oliver," but it doesn't work. It only gets her _more_ interested in what's going on. "Eve, honey, I'm sorry but I can't tell you anything. I'm not kidding when I say even I shouldn't know…" I snap at her, causing her to step back in confusion.

Michael moves across as he sees this, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Eve, sweetie, why don't you go to the toilet whilst I talk to Claire?" he suggests quietly, causing her to nod and stalk off, her heels clacking. He watches her to make sure she reaches the toilet safely before he then turns back to me with a concerned expression on his face. "What the hell, Claire? What the hell is going on?" he asks me, his hands on my shoulders as he pushes me further back into the corner to avoid any prying ears.

"I… I can't tell you, Michael, I'm sorry," I sigh, knowing that this is the answer I have to give. He cannot know about the missing humans and _definitely_ not that his Grandfather – dead Grandfather, may I add – has gone walk about…

His hands grip my shoulders tighter: what is _with_ damned vampires and trying to give me bruises? "Michael, ow, it hurts," I wince as he gets me _right_ where Amelie grabbed me before, where Myrnin had me before that, but he doesn't release me… guess it isn't the best idea to piss off a vampire. Jeez, Claire, where did you get _that_ idea from? Of _course_ it's surreal, for vampires are _supposed_ to be happy bunnies that like to dance in meadows and _never_ hurt anyone… NOT!

"Tell me," he says very calmly, "what is going on, or god help me Claire, I will go crazy!" he snaps, entirely vampire Michael. For the first time, he scares me.

That is, however, until another male vampire steps behind him and pulls him off me. "I believe the lady told you to let her go," Myrnin snaps at Michael, throwing him backwards in a way that doesn't attract any attention from the crowd. "I can tell you _right_ now that this has absolutely _nothing_ to do with you, so run off with your little girlfriend and leave the mature people to save the town," he continues, snarling in Michael's face.

"Myrnin, calm down," I say hurriedly, seeing Michael prepare to retaliate. "Michael, calm down… just go," I tell him quickly, watching as he looks at me with disgust.

"You really _do_ have something for him, don't you? Shane was right?" he asks, but the way he asks suggests as if he is only confirming something he previously considered.

"What? No!" I shoot back, ignoring Myrnin's confusingly hurt look to tell Michael the truth. "I don't have anything with Myrnin; we just _really_ have to work!"

"Whatever," Michael says in response, walking off with his hands in the air. Just as he does this, Amelie passes and the air she gives off is _not_ pleasant: I take it that she is happy with neither Myrnin nor myself… wonder what he did to piss her off. Oh yeah, fight with Oliver and tell me that Sam is missing.

"You have three days to find the person we discussed," she informs us. "If not, I would not wish to be where you are standing right now. Do you understand me?"

"Basically you are threatening our lives if we don't bring you something that, if it remains missing, will leave your life _much_ less complicated," Myrnin foolishly argues back instead of just agreeing.

"_Basically_, you are sorting something which could cause _great_ pain to this town and that is something that, just thinking about, makes me want to rip off the heads of the nearest people to me," she responds, causing a shiver to run down my spine as she looks at us. I am weak: I would not survive an attack by her; there is absolutely _no_ chance of it. Oh no…

"Stop the threats, Amelie, or we won't do it," Myrnin shoots back, his own voice as full of venom as hers was previously.

Her eyebrows raise at this blatant opposition to her, before she retaliates. "Remember the person we were discussing earlier, Myrnin?" she asks him, and I get the strangest feeling that she is talking about me. He does not respond but simply stares at her to show he understands. "Well, if you do _not_ do as I ask, their life expectancy shall be cut down to mere minutes, do you understand? And being turned is not an option…"

"Fine," he answers mutinously and entirely unhappy about this… I would have done it anyway, to find Sam, even if he got me out of it. "I _do_ hate it when you play the power card. Let me be _quite_ clear, Amelie: I am doing this for you, but I don't like it and I no longer wish to be friends when this is over."

She snorts at this but looks quite shocked, as in that her friend would abandon her because she is forcing him to do something… or rather because she is insisting that I am involved.

"Very well, but you have three days," she repeats before disappearing. Three days to find a body… that shouldn't be hard, right?

"Should we go?" I suggest, no longer liking being in this dress. It's already associated with too many bad things… I never want to wear it again.

After staring after Amelie for a long time, he finally jolts back into action and nods, taking my arm and leading me through the throngs of vampires without a word. They all look at us, but don't comment, partially because of Myrnin's half crazed expression and the way that I am trying so hard to keep the fear off of my face… fear drives them on and I don't fancy being an exquisite entrée in here right now.

It seems quite ironic that I told Shane I wouldn't be here long. After all, I thought I was going home early to be with _him_, rather than going home to change before spending three days exclusively with Myrnin, "the bloodsucker he likes the least," to put it in Shane's words. I _have _to, if we have any chance of finding Sam: I can't be going home for a third of the day to sleep.

We rush through the dining room and up the staircase to the entry room, where Myrnin heads to the door. "Myrnin, can't we take a portal?" I ask but he doesn't slow as he responds, pulling me with him.

"I need to fetch my car: we are going to have to drive to the graveyard for there is no portal there," he explains, but I dig my feet into the ground. It makes no difference to him as he lifts me along, experiencing no problems.

"Myrnin, let me get the portal back so I can be changed by the time you've gotten home and changed and then pick me up," I protest, _not_ wanting to be driven in a car by Myrnin if I don't have to… at least to get home.

He stops and looks down at me, wondering about the practicalities of this. But then he nods, waving a hand to conjure a portal and opening it for me like a true gentleman. The darkened Glass House living room greets me and I step through, the last thing I see as I turn being Myrnin. I turn on the light and hear his voice, "I shall be round to pick you up in fifteen minutes. _Do_ be ready; I have no time to wait and neither do you."

"Whatever!" I call and hear him shutting the portal carefully, as to not splinter the already damaged door: I think it needs replacing.

But I can tell instantly that Shane isn't home. Nobody is: Michael and Eve are at the party and Shane is probably down the pub with his 'friends', getting pissed. So I turn a few lights on, even though this has to be the safest night in town because every vampire is at the party, and head up the stairs, unable to absorb everything.

Amelie and Oliver are in a relationship. Nine humans have been found dead, all in the same area of the graveyard. Sam's body has been nabbed by some thieves. Myrnin knows something that he isn't telling me.

We have three days to find Sam or I basically die.

Should be fun.

I change out of the dress quickly, discarding it without a second thought on the floor of my room, and grab the first jeans and t-shirt I see. I throw them on and pull my hair out of the intricate style Eve had put it in earlier, tying it back in a ponytail so that it is out of my face. I remove the makeup from my face and find a pair of _normal_ shoes that I can run in, just incase some vamp that has been killing all these humans tries to grab me… sure they're probably not going to help, but if I'm on my feet for hours, I think they could be helpful.

Now sorted with clothes, I grab my thick jacket and head downstairs into the kitchen, finding the coolbag and piling drinks and chocolate bars into it: I don't know how long we're going to be out, so I need food as I doubt Myrnin will have been prepared enough to get _me_ something. Sure he may have remembered blood, but, hello, blood doesn't sustain me. Therefore, I believe that my forward thinking could be beneficial… as well as getting the blanket from the living room incase we have to do a stakeout or something.

Eleven minutes after I returned home, a knock comes at the door. "Little one, it is me," Myrnin's voice comes through the door, frustrating me because _how many times have I told him not to call me that_? So I wrench open the door to reveal him dressed in actual normal clothes – jeans and a t-shirt that looks just like the ones on the internet site I told Amelie about… she actually listened to me – which I presume he is only wearing incase he 'gets his Edwardian stuff dirty'. He is more of a girl than I am!

"What do you want, Myrnin?" I ask him sharply. "I have four more minutes."

He shrugs and moves into the house, there being no barriers because a vampire owns the house so vampires can enter as they please. Something about him… he doesn't seem as confident as normal.

"Please don't come, Claire," he begs as he sits down on the sofa. My curiosity kindled, I shut the door and sit down opposite him.

"Why? I _have_ to, you heard Amelie," I retort, wondering whether or not he is just messing with me. Perhaps, just perhaps, he has been shaken by the news that nine humans… no, it's because _Sam_ is missing and he wants to get him back so that Amelie will remember that she doesn't love Oliver.

"Pretend you're sick or just stay here and I can cover for you," he continues urgently, the desperation evident in his voice.

"Why?" I repeat. "Tell me why, Myrnin, and I will consider it."

He leans forwards gravely, his curls bouncing perfectly – why I have noticed this is beyond me – before saying, very seriously, "I know where Sam is."

WHAT?

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**So, not **_**quite**_** as long as last time, just a couple of hundred words shorter.**

**Tell me: do you like the chapters long, like this length, or do you prefer more 1K or 2K chappys?**

**And what do you think is going up here? :P**

**Please don't fav/alert without reviewing... **

**Vicky xx**


	7. Discovery

**Chapter 7:**

**Thanks for the reviews, guys! **

**Just saying, that there's like _loads_ of people who have alerted this story/fav'd it but don't bother to review. DO review; I want to know your thoughts - don't be a bystander!**

* * *

_Claire's POV:_

He knows where Sam is.

Let me repeat that: the missing vampire lover – that's the word – of Amelie is missing… but, according to Myrnin, he isn't _really_ missing… _because Myrnin knows where he is_!

I stand up and stalk away from him, running my hand through my hair. I can't accept that he knows where Sam is – if he does, then why did he not mention this before, before even Richard had to call Amelie and inform her that his body had been nabbed? If he had known, surely he would have told his _best friend_, if such a colloquial term can be used to describe the relationship Amelie has with anyone.

"You don't mean that _you_ took him?" an awful thought hits me and I turn back to him in horror. "I mean, surely even _you_ wouldn't sink that low to try and get Amelie to dump Oliver or whatever they have," I continue, rationalising the previous thought with the intense dislike (or hatred perhaps) Myrnin has for the fact that Amelie has moved on with Oliver from Sam.

He looks affronted but I don't know if I can believe him. He does _many_ controversial things so long as they get the end result what he wants. "Dear Claire, what on _earth _would stealing a dead body do for me getting Amelie and Oliver to, ahem, separate?" he asks, injecting enough innocence into his voice that I could perhaps contemplate believing that he didn't do it. I _want_ to believe him, I really do… but there are so many reasons as to why he _would_ go and nab a dead body from its final resting place that it means the belief in my heart is doubted by the voice of reason in my head.

"Because if Amelie found out Sam was missing, she would remember how much she loves him and therefore would leave Oliver," I shoot back, my expression more furious than I possibly believe I have ever looked before.

He shakes his head and folds his arms, standing up and moving to lean against the doorway to the kitchen. His lips curve into almost a smile and I want to hit him for finding this situation _amusing_. "I can honestly say, Claire, that I did _not_ steal Sam's body, though your reasoning for why I would do is most true," he says, confirming he has _something_ to do with the body snatching but not so much that I know anything more than he has already told me… which is basically that he has had something to do with it… and, this time, I can believe him.

I grab my jacket and move towards the door. "Right, we have less than three days to find a body… something that you seem to have superior knowledge about," I say coldly, trying to mimic how Amelie was with me less than an hour ago… it seems so strange to realise that only three hours ago, I knew _nothing_ and the only issue I had was Shane.

Shane.

He's out but he's going to be coming back soon. How am I going to be able to explain to him in a _note_ about what's going on? I don't think I should mention any details because he could come up or tell other anti-vampire humans in town and then have everything going even _more_ haywire since nine humans are dead and a vampire's grave – the only buried vampire in the world – has been destroyed.

"Yes?" Myrnin shakes me from my thought tracking to alert me to the fact that I was in the middle of talking and then stopped.

"You can tell me when we get there," I inform him savagely, my voice sharper than nails. Of _course_ Myrnin would have to have something to do with what is going on and I am not sitting around this house for him to try and talk me out of going. "Don't try and tell me here because what if Shane or Eve or Michael come back and see you here? I'm leaving a note to tell them I'm going out and stuff, but I know _I_ don't want to have to explain where I'm going with _you_!"

He looks hurt for a moment and opens his mouth to talk before closing it again. Then he nods slowly, motioning for me to pick up the piece of paper and pen on the table in front of me and to write the note.

_Shane, Michael and Eve_

_Sorry, I had to go out – I __**really**__ wouldn't if it wasn't important… it's to do with Amelie; I _have_ to do it._

_I will ring you when I'm coming home but it's a bit dangerous, so don't ring me as I won't answer… probably._

_I'm safe, so don't worry._

_Love you_

_Claire xx_

I leave it in the middle of the table, next to the tv remote so they will definitely see it before picking up the coolbag and my blanket to wait by the door. "Well, are you coming or am I going to have to drive myself in your car?" I call over my shoulder to the man still leaning against the kitchen door. Why the _hell_ he can't hurry up and drive me so that I can find out how on _earth_ he has managed to do something with Sam's body to make him go poof…

"_Please_ stay?" he begs finally, his voice betraying the fact that he knows he cannot get me to stay. There is no chance of it, yet he wouldn't be Myrnin without trying to get me to change my mind, would he?

"No, now hurry up before I have to call Amelie and get her to send out Oliver to accompany us as well… and I would hate that almost as much as you," I threaten, turning to see his face darken at the mention of Oliver. Then he nods and moves forwards, pulling me out of the door with one arm, the other yanking the coolbag and blanket from me so that I no longer have to carry it.

"Quickly," he orders me, slamming the door behind us as he runs with me down to his car. Yet the road is empty, all the vampires evidently still at the party like the good vamps they are… I suppose there will be the vagrant vampires, shunned from society like humans are sometimes, around but they don't come down here… not with our reputation for killing vampires and getting away with it.

He throws me carelessly into the passenger seat, ignoring my grunt of pain as my elbow connects with the handbrake. But I hastily pull my seatbelt on as he enters the driver's seat, having already put my bag and blanket into the boot – vampire speed is quite possibly the most disorientating thing I have ever come across.

"Do you want me to explain now?" Myrnin asks as he puts the car into gear. I instantly turn the blaring radio off, not wanting him to have anything to distract him from driving when he is already so terrible at it.

"No," I answer, trying to stop myself from being both rude and _extremely_ cold. "I want you to concentrate on driving so that you get me to the graveyard in one piece without that then becoming my home for eternity," I explain my abrupt 'no' so that he cannot get upset again, something which is a definite Myrnin tendency to do.

He nods and focuses on driving, gritting his teeth as he does so. Unfortunately, the focus doesn't do much good and we are instantly up the kerb as he tries to drive round the corner, narrowly missing the wheelie bins out front, ready for collection.

Though scared for my life, the drive to the graveyard is deathly silent – no pun intended – with neither of us saying a word. Myrnin takes twists that I doubt even an F1 driver would take at a breakneck speed, deciding that if we are going there (which we are, with no exceptions… well, perhaps to the hospital with his driving) we may as well get there as quickly as possible.

He pulls up in the most open area of the graveyard, the place which has a sort of eerie light coming from the fountain in the centre. There aren't any trees, for which I am grateful because it seems _too _sinister to go to the graveyard when there is a) a murderer of nine humans around and b) someone who _could_ still be around who nabbed the body of a dead vampire… surely Amelie has troops around as well… and I don't want them getting the wrong idea that I have something to do with it and then haul me in for questioning or something.

Myrnin, without a word, gets out my coolbag and blanket along with about four boxes of his own things and two chairs for us to sit in. Good thinking, since the ground is already beginning to get wet with dew: it must be later (or, really, earlier) than I realised.

"Thanks," I utter my first words in about fifteen minutes as he sets a chair up, complete with a little table, and puts my bag on the table. He smiles wanly in response before doing the same, but leaving his bags on the floor.

"I… this is _very_ sensitive information that not even Amelie knows," he mutters, leaning towards me. As he does so, I forget for a minute that he is telling me something vitally important about _Sam_ and simply loose myself in his scent, the strange way that he seems to appeal to my sensory glands so much more than Shane and in a much more potent manner. I forget that I'm with someone and simply, I'm horrified to admit, imagine leaning further into him and pressing my lips to his softly.

But I shake my head and get out of it, building an invisible wall between us to prevent me from doing anything stupid. "What is it?" I ask, hardening my voice slightly as I get a mug of hot chocolate out to drink whilst Myrnin gives me his answer.

"Before… before Sam died, when we were still fighting back against Bishop, he came to me," Myrnin whispers, his eyes unseeing here but simply reliving moments long gone. It seems as if he is almost being haunted by those times. "I cannot remember _all_ of it well, for I was under the throngs of the disease… but moments stand out with a greater clarity than others…how I _wish_ I could create something to remove the haze of the unknown caused by the disease," he begins to ramble, getting off topic so I tap his leg, forcing myself to believe that the shiver running through me is in direct correlation to the hot chocolate. It is _not_ because I touched him… I know it isn't.

"Back on topic, Myrnin," I say harshly, continuing to construct the wall between us with whatever I can find in my mind: bricks, mortar, debris… anything to keep me with Shane and away from him… the burning in my chest suggests that I want something more than a conversation here, something which I cannot allow… even if just to be faithful to Shane, I can't let myself do anything I could later regret.

He nods slowly and shuts his eyes, closing the portal I have into his soul, to see how he truly feels. "He told me that he knew that, if there was a showdown which he believed there would be, it would _always_ be him who Bishop chose to kill… Oliver was playing the double agent role; Amelie was his daughter and, no matter their differences, he would never kill her… I was the decoy, so the only ones left were you, Michael and him… and, since he ensured Amelie left you and Michael out of this, he knew that it would be him.

"I didn't know what he wanted from me, at first. I thought that he was expecting sympathy or something else along the same lines… something which he wouldn't even get from me _now_, for he chose the path he took in life… but then he began to quote Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet… _"How if, when I am laid in the tomb, I wake before the time that Romeo come to redeem me?"_" Myrnin begins, but I butt in.

"Isn't that in the bit where she takes the potion?" I ask, grimacing slightly as I remember the torturous times I went through in school, reading Shakespeare plays and analysing them. But… but what is the context here? Unless…but no, surely not!

He nods, taking a moment to get back into his storytelling rhythm which I interrupted. "I still took a little while to comprehend fully, until I realised what he wanted," he pauses for dramatic effect but then continues as I flip him on. "He wanted a potion that would make him _appear_ dead, so that Bishop assume him dead and would move on from his public punishment… of course, there had to be variations on what Juliet did: what I did for him was produce a potion that made him appear as if he was dead when he, in fact, still had enough blood left in him to survive… he then dropped into the vampire equivalent of a coma whilst the world thought he was dead," he explains.

I drop my hot chocolate all over the ground in shock, splashes of brown resting on my jeans, and then cover my mouth with my hand, unable to believe this. For the entire six months since Sam's death, Myrnin has known that he _isn't_ dead… he has actually just been _sleeping_?

"You mean to tell me," I say, my voice low with fury… I have probably as much fury in my voice as Amelie did when she found out Bishop had escaped and it is directed towards Myrnin, "that you _knew_ Sam wasn't dead and you didn't tell Amelie? You let her struggle on with her depression, _almost killing herself to try and be with a man who wasn't dead_?" I whisper shout, not wanting to draw attention to us anymore than it already has been.

He nods slowly and ducks his head, his eyes slowly opening. "I did… I thought I was doing it for her; she seemed, in a sense that you cannot see Claire, almost happy that he had died… for it gave her a chance to be able to be close to him, to show she cared in a way that she couldn't when he was alive," he tries to reason with me in an appalling attempt to validate his actions. "Every time I attempted to approach the subject, she pushed me away, not wanting to mention Sam… especially after the issue down at the grave. So I just stopped trying… in my heart, I knew he would come back sometime but I didn't know when."

This makes me even angrier, so much so that my fist is clenched in anger and I want to punch him. "Let me get this straight… you made the guy a potion that'll make him appear dead, then you don't tell anyone, _and you don't know when it's going to bring him back_?" by the end, my voice is more of a hiss than a snake's is… and a hiss is all a snake can produce, I think.

His face whitens as he looks at me and he nods slowly, causing me to whistle through my teeth and almost failing. "As I told you, Claire, I was under the disease… perhaps I knew then and forgot or perhaps I finished making it under the disease… everything is hazy but I know that I made him it and that this is why he is back…" he trails off, shutting his eyes again and hitting himself over the head. I make no attempts to stop his self harm for he _deserves it_! "Oh _no_, it's _Sam_ who has killed the humans!" he pieces the missing humans together with what he has just told me in horror, his eyes flashing open to reveal a panic inside.

I shake slightly, unable to believe that Sam, the good guy, has killed so many people before my brain begins to calculate things. Let's say a seventy year old vampire needs three bottles of blood per week, each bottle being one and a half pints of blood. There's been twenty six weeks since he 'died', approximately, and per week he needs about four point five pints… in total, he needs 117 pints… and let's say that each human is worth nine pints, which could be a little over, and he has had nine… that's eighty one…

…that's another four humans.

"Myrnin, you should have thought it through, have told _someone _who could have kept an eye on things and had a supply of blood ready for him!" I chastise him, realising that nobody is safe until the next four humans are dead… only then will Sam's body have recovered enough from the blood loss to work well enough to have him recognise me. I bet if he saw me now, he wouldn't be able to stop himself killing me, no matter how much he cares for me… or if Michael were human, the same thing would apply.

He nods slowly and stands up, walking ten metres away and then back again. "Little one, you know I know that now," he says sadly, opening one of his bags and shutting it again. "I regret not telling you, or Amelie, or someone… but I've been collecting blood I take normally but don't need…I've gathered enough up that, according to my calculations that I can tell you have done as well, he should just about have enough blood to return himself to normal," he motions towards two of his bags, evidently both of them filled with blood bags.

"But what are we going to tell Amelie?" I whisper, the thought hitting me. "I mean, she seems to have moved on with Oliver… how is this going to go down, with Sam back?" I throw a question into the open, one with absolutely no chance of being answered by either of us, though we can both take a stab at it.

"I believe that her true love for Sam has been shown by the way she is willing to risk _us_ to get him back," Myrnin answers. "There could be a serial killing vampire body snatcher out here and she would rather lose us if it meant there was a chance that she could have Sam's _body_ back… now that is love."

"But what would _you_ know of love, Myrnin?" I ask spitefully, part of my heart knowing the answer but not wanting to share it. "How do you have this superior knowledge that shows that you know she _hasn't_ moved on enough from Sam with Oliver that she would rather keep things stable?"

He smiles sadly and shakes his head. "I don't know for definite, Claire, but my judgements are based on the fact that I have seen her for centuries, seen her reactions to events. She has turned her back on the most helpless of people without a word; she has turned her back on people or vampires she professed to love without a qualm… but something in her eyes, Claire, at that ball when she found out about Sam… I have never seen it before. It's the thing that shows me that, no matter how much she tried to fool herself, she never stopped loving Sam at all."

Something about his insightfulness, the way that he has read so deeply into the woman he has spent so much time with, draws me to him. This is his sensitive side, one that I never get the chance to see, yet I wish I could see it more often. It's intoxicating, almost, to see him without definite proof, just judging it on gut instinct and knowledge of _people_ he has seen throughout the years…not science.

I nod thoughtfully, accepting this answer. Then I turn back to Myrnin and smile slightly, offering him my hot chocolate… well, the flask of it, since my mug is in pieces on the floor along with a good half of the original flask… good job I brought spares.

"Truce?" I suggest, though he never really said anything. "I'll let you have some hot chocolate?" I continue and he brightens up, taking the pot from me. He then proceeds to swig almost the entire bottle…

… But, somehow, I don't mind.

* * *

**So, what do you think of the whole Sam thing?**

**Claire/Myrnin **_**is**_** the focus, but I want some Samelie in here as well…as per usual!**

**Review please! 15 more reviews & I'll update like ASAP! :D**

**Vicky xx**


	8. Hunting For The Hunter

**Chapter 8:**

_Sorry for not updating; i forgot and then had other things to do and write & then some really long oneshots._

_Samelie lovers, check out my new long one: Is it the love of the name or the person inside?_

**_I don't own anything_**

* * *

_Claire's POV:_

After about another five minutes of sitting together, just in silence, I decide that it's high time that we get on with searching for Sam. I mean, we _know_ he is here, due to the amount of deaths around his grave; it's just whether or not he's got enough strength in him now to have move someplace further away. If he does… then we're screwed!

"Let's go," I say softly, standing up and putting my hot chocolate (what's left of it) flask back in the box. I'm going to leave it all here: it isn't as if anyone is going to come nick it all… I mean, all humans are at home, asleep, and every vampire is still living it up at the ball. I'm almost sad that I'm _not_ at the ball, if that actually makes sense, because if I was, I would still be having… well, it wouldn't be what I call _fun_ since I was forced to attend, but it would be a billion times better than this. I wish I didn't have to investigate Sam and all these murders, especially since _Sam_ is most likely the murderer. I... I can't put into words how I feel about Sam being back; I'm overjoyed, of course I am, but this… this just complicates things. If only Myrnin had _told_ someone; then Amelie wouldn't have moved on with Oliver (which is _so_ obvious that it is happening) and… and nobody would have forgotten Sam.

"Claire?" Myrnin's voice interrupts my reverie and I jump as I turn around to face him. he's much closer than I expected him to be, a static electricity suddenly appearing that causes every hair on my body to stand on end for some reason. I feel a blush rising high in my cheeks and I turn away, looking as far into the distance as possible. The night is dark, hardly any stars in the sky, and all the shadows around are large and prominent. This isn't anything but an ominous sign…

"Mmmm?" I answer him as soon as I turn further away, juts for him to move around. He stands in front of the headlights he left on for my benefit alone, his entire frame highlighted by the band of light surrounding him, casting him in a warm glow. But it also darkens the shadows under his eyes and somehow enhances the light _and_ the darkness inside of him. How, I don't know.

"Stay close to me; do _not_ leave my side," his order annoys me, causing a frown to appear on my face… after all, we are _partners_ in this investigation! True, he is the one who has _caused_ it to happen, but Amelie sent the _pair_ of us (actually thanks to me, since I pissed her off about saying that she didn't love Sam anymore) to investigate. She didn't sent Myrnin and his assistant; she sent Myrnin and _Claire_. And that makes all the difference, in my book.

"And why can I not go on my own?" I ask indignantly, stepping back to prove the point almost.

He sighs again and steps forwards to close the gap between us, heightening the tension between us. It confuses me; I shouldn't feel this for _anyone_ but Shane… but here I am, feeling it with Myrnin. It hits me that I have _never_ felt like this with Shane – we got together straight away, without all this. Why can't I just be _normal_ and love my boyfriend and ignore this strangeness caused simply because it is dark and I need someone to protect me?

"Claire, you realise that we are not only searching for a vampire, but one who is so in need of human blood he would kill his own _child_ if he had to?" Myrnin says, his voice almost amused… but it is the flat amusement of irony. "If you stray from my protection for one minute, you can be dead. You know how long it takes for us to drain you? I'll tell you. If we're thirsty – and, believe me, Sam is thirsty – it doesn't even take a minute, trust me on that," something in his tone suggests to me that if the circumstances were different, I _really_ ought to be running away right now. Why do I spend almost my _entire_ time with vampires who, according to Myrnin, could kill me in less than a minute by getting rid of every drop of blood in my body?

I shudder slightly and he smiles, proud that he has proven his point. "Alright, alright, I get your point," I concede this fact and he nods, taking a step back to give me some room.

"I also need to keep you safe from Amelie's guards who are… currently patrolling around the north east quadrant of the graveyard," Myrnin continues thoughtfully, his eyes trained on the section of the graveyard where, in the far distance, Amelie has people.

"Why? We're working for Amelie; they should know that," I protest, thinking that Amelie would've told her guards that we are here simply so that we don't have to get arrested for suspicion of being murderers/body snatchers and waste some of our precious three days.

He shakes his head, amused once again. I'm _really_ not seeing what he seems to find so amusing. "No, little Claire, she wouldn't have told them simply because we do not register on her radar… her _good_ radar, at the current moment in time," he sighs. "She said to me that it would make her life easier if we were not around… so, though she wants us to find Sam, if we were disposed of, I doubt she would care."

I shake my head furiously, unable to accept that she has sent us out here and doesn't care if we live or die. "She needs us… she _definitely_ needs you to run the machine; what if it broke down?" I ask sharply, no part of me believing that Amelie thinks she could live without us.

"I cannot say what Amelie thinks, for I am not in her mind, but I know that she is not emotionally stable right now and she probably doesn't have a clue what she is doing," Myrnin comments thoughtfully, furthering my belief that she doesn't _really_ want rid of us. "She… she is like a startled fawn with this news of Sam being missing, unable to see the consequences of any of her actions in her blind desperation to have him back. If getting him back means she loses us two valuable pawns, or more so in my case, I believe she would make that switch instantly," he continues, bragging about his importance.

"So… to clarify, we _don__'__t_ want to be found by the guards she has sent out on the off chance that she hasn't told them that we're looking for Sam, as they would probably almost kill me but keep me alive enough to take back to Amelie to insist that it is us who have killed them all and nabbed Sam, where they would then expect her to kill me and to lock you away in a room underground for the rest of eternity?" I confirm, jabbering away as I try to see if I have it right.

"Spot on, Claire, spot on," he says grimly. "However, she _has_been gracious enough to ensure that they do not patrol this area whatsoever, so we have a greater chance of finding him… I theorise that we have a good square kilometre in which they are forbidden to step. So, are we going to head on our quest to find the good Samuel, or are we going to stand here until dawn breaks and we have to go home?" he asks me, his voice getting a little strained.

"Let's go," I agree, repeating what I said at the beginning of this little conversation between us. So Myrnin nods and picks up the bags containing the blood, ignoring my tentative offer to assist him… what would I do that he can't do with one finger? Normally, he would have me carrying it all – since, after all, I _am_ his assistant – but I think since we are equals here, he needs to take it all as he is stronger than me.

I snap on the torch as we depart from the area which has the comforting glow of the headlights. This instantly lights up a path for me to see between the headstones, making sure that I don't fall over the twisted roots of trees intermingled with the graves forgotten long ago… Morganville is a place where the dead are forgotten, the need to survive more important than remembering the dead. It's sad, especially since if Sam hadn't been forgotten we wouldn't be in this situation right now.

"Closer, Claire," Myrnin murmurs, listening intently to the area around us. I shiver involuntarily as I think something is grabbing the back of my jacket, just to find it is simply my rubbing against the bristles of one of the many bushes around… silly Claire! Yet it's scary out here and I'm not scared to admit that I am absolutely _terrified_.

I take a step closer to Myrnin and brush up against his jacket. Though he _ought_ to be cold, since he is a vampire with no body temperature, I get another electric jolt from his body… it's as if he is 100 degrees Celsius, with his temperature making me realise just how cold I am. I shiver again and this time it's from the cold, causing me to find myself clinging to his arm in a matter of seconds. It sends jolts of heat through me that I know ought not to be happening… I think it's all in my head, which is possibly more worrying since it means I'm finding a connection between myself and Myrnin.

"So… how are you?" I ask him as we walk, my head turning from side to side as I try to see if there is the gleam of eyes watching us… if that happened, then I think I'd know we'd either found Sam or perhaps someone else who Myrnin has given this tonic to and then forgotten about it.

His brow furrows as he tries to process the question, even though I ask him the question nearly every time I see him. "I… I'm good, I suppose," he answers after a long pause, his voice basically telling me that he doesn't feel that way. Why do _no_ men have the emotional ability to be able to confess how they feel? Even vampires seem to have an issue, I've found. Or maybe it's just the men I associate myself with… I should probably go to Harvard or something and find a really, _really_ sensitive boy who knows how to behave with a girl and knows so much about science.

But they wouldn't have Shane's lovability when he isn't being a prick. Or Myrnin's knowledge of science.

Wait… did I just think about Myrnin as in someone who I would choose over a sensitive college boy? Moving on from that thought…

"What's up, Myrnin?" I ask him gently, turning closer to him to get a look at his face as he talks.

He looks down at me and his face… it's haunting. He's trying to have a mask akin to Amelie's but he doesn't have the self control to be able to keep it up and it's only half working. The other half shows a man half broken and barely holding back tears… something which confuses me.

"Nothing," he blatantly lies, turning away from me and beginning to increase his speed so much so that I can't even contemplate talking – I'm having enough trouble _breathing_ enough. He keeps this up for a good ten minutes until I am so worn out – _hello_, human girl in the middle of the night who has already been threatened by like three different vampires _this__evening_ (some new sort of record for me) and is out in the graveyard searching for a vampire who would kill her given the chance – I have to let go of his arm.

He doesn't realise for a few seconds, my grip on his arm evidently nothing to him, but I get the idea that the volume of my panting to get my breath back startles him into realising I am no longer next to him.

"Claire," he hisses my name, anger prominent on his face as he returns over to me. He sets the boxes down on the floor and grabs my arm in the _exact_ place where he, Amelie _and_ Michael all grabbed it earlier, causing me to wince. But he doesn't realise this, his face inhumane with anger. "You were _supposed_ to stay with me; what did I tell you about Sam wanting your blood?" he continues in the same tone.

Something snaps in my brain; I didn't get _majorly_ mad with him earlier when I found out that he had given Sam the tonic to make him appear dead, but I get mad now.

"You don't _own_ me," I snap at him, wrenching my arm from his stunned hand. "And, anyway, the only reason you can be so sure that Sam wants my blood is because you want it as well. Just admit it, Myrnin; that's the reason you always want me in the lab – so that you can see how far you can stretch your self control but we _both_ know that if you want the damned blood so bad, one day you're going to ki-" I begin to screech the end of it, until his hand shoots out and clamps across my mouth, rendering me unable to say another word. In fact, he gets me so hard that I stagger backwards and fall against a tree, him moving with me effortlessly. My torch falls to the ground with a clatter as I process the injuries caused by the tree.

The crash causes my head to instantly throb on the right hand side and one hand tentatively reaches up there to see if there is any blood – if my previous statement is the truth, then that could be the most unwise thing that has ever happened. Meanwhile, my eyes frantically roam his face, trying to draw out any of the humanity left in there, flickering between his eyes (which are a deep crimson colouring) and seeing nothing there either.

"You," he begins slowly, his voice unrecognisable. Gone is the chimes of charm that normally shine through; he is the monster through and through – but this monster is different to the charmingly dangerous one… this is all harshness – like Oliver. "You are a _very_ silly girl, Claire. I thirst for your blood, of course I do, but it is _not_ the main thought in my mind when you are around. I have you in the lab to _work_, Claire, so that we can further our knowledge of science and create discoveries nobody else has! And yet you deem it _right_ to bring out the fact that I am a vampire and insinuate I only want to kill you? I…I don't know what to say," the anger fades slightly, turning into a sense of deep upset and betrayal that I could think this way.

Tears begin to fill my eyes to the brim and they fall out onto his hand, causing rivulets to run down onto his sleeve. They create little patterns down his skin, almost drawing my attention from his face which seems to be returning to a human's… but with so much more pain and angst in it that he could _never_ be mistaken to be human. He isn't human, I know that, but never before have I seen it so obviously in his face.

I try to talk against his hand but can't, him suddenly realising that he is still constricting my mouth. He nods slowly, removing his hand and turning away, just as I pick up my torch. I shine it around, to make sure that there aren't any lurking creatures anywhere (vampires are in the world; now I'm not so sure that the other mythical creatures _are_ mythical), before opening my mouth to reply.

"Myrnin… I…" I don't know what I'm about to say, but my phone suddenly vibrates in my pocket. I know in my heart that it's Shane. "Dammit, Shane! I told you not to ring me!" I mutter to myself, digging it out. It's already been vibrating so it isn't as if confirming who it is will make Sam run away if we were close to him anyway.

I get it out of my pocket and see that it _is_ Shane ringing me. So I look up at Myrnin for permission to answer, something he does with an almost melancholy nod and smile. "Shane?" I answer the phone in a whisper, turning away from Myrnin for the little privacy that this offers.

"Claire, where the _hell_ are you?" he yells down the phone, causing me to wince as I realise that he will be heard probably on the far side of the graveyard.

"I left you a note," I whisper again, cursing the fact that he cannot look at stuff without having to bolt straight in.

"I know, I read it!" he continues to yell, meaning I have to turn down the volume on my phone so that I'm not deafened. "What the _hell_ does 'Sorry, I had to go out – I really wouldn't if it wasn't important… it's to do with Amelie; I have to do it' mean?" he snaps at me, reciting part of the note I left for him.

"It means exactly what it _says_ it means," I retort, unable to keep the sharp edge from my voice as he angers me. "I have to do something for Amelie and if I stay on the phone, Shane, there is a _very_ good chance that I could die. So excuse me for telling you not to ring me!" I continue, debating about hanging up the phone. However, I don't think that this is _me_ and I don't want to be changing at all, so I simply take a deep breath and stomp the ground with my foot… hard.

"I don't like you being out there… who are you with?" Shane asks suspiciously.

"With Myrnin… we have to do something Shane and it's dangerous, so I need to go," I try and get off the phone but he simply laughs without amusement.

"You're out with Myrnin? Alone?" he confirms and I nod mutely, even though he can't see it. The extended silence seems to confirm this for him and he laughs again, more sarcastically this time. "Well I'll be seeing you when I see you… if he doesn't kill you first."

"Shane, it's not _like_ that!" I cry out before hearing the click of him putting the phone down. Oh, just _how_ polite of him!

I barely manage to refrain myself from throwing my phone into the nearest tree or screaming so loudly that it wakes the people in the graveyard _who__are__actually__dead_. But slowly, so controlled that I feel like a robot, I force myself to put my phone back in my pocket and turn back to face a Myrnin who instantly turns away before I can look at his face.

"So…" I trail off, not knowing what to say. But then the slight tinge of pink creeps up high enough on the horizon for me to be able to notice: dawn is coming. The dew I saw on the grass earlier must have been there at the right time unless we've been walking for hours… actually, that wouldn't surprise me.

His head rises to the sky, as if he hasn't either felt the pull of the sun or noticed the lightening of the air around us, and he turns back to me with his eyes shut. "We ought to leave, little Claire," he tells me in a voice devoid of emotion. "Amelie's guards are going to drive through this area on their departure, to see if there are any disturbances of the area around Sam's grave. We cannot be here."

"But… but we didn't _see_ Sam's grave!" I moan, not wanting to leave yet. To leave now would be to admit that we have only two days left and I can't accept that.

He opens his eyes and looks at me softly, his face open and kind. "You are falling asleep on your feet; if we stayed out now, not only would _I_ be a liability, but you would be also. We would be trapped," he tells me gently, putting the strange fog in my head into focus as I realise it is sleep deprivation. Of course.

"But where _is_ Sam's grave?" I ask as he takes my arm, steadying me. I'm going numb so I can't feel what I _know_ is happening in my arm as he touches me – sleep deprivation is a bitch.

"Over there," he gestures vaguely towards the east of where we are standing. "Now, Claire, we have to leave. Do you mind if I carry you?" he doesn't wait for a response from me, simply lifts me into one arm as the other is filled with his equipment.

We are flying through the forest at a lightening speed, too quick for my fog filled head to be able to comprehend – it just came down on me like _that_… I was fine before, but now… now I can barely force my eyes to remain open.

I feel us slowing and him opening the car to put me in, but it is too hard to keep my eyelids open now. "Sleep, Claire, sleep," he tells me gently, strapping me into the car.

And I do as he tells me. I fall asleep.

* * *

_And if I could **possibly** have ended that in more of a cliché, please tell me!_

_Oh, __wait, __I __could __have __had __her __toddle __over __to __Sam__'__s __grave, __not t__aking__ '__vaguely __over __there__' __for __an __answer __& __then __have __her __fall __unconscious __into __the __hole. __Now _that _would __make __a __good __twist__… __mwahahahahahha_

_Don't__ fav/alert without revieiwng or continue to do this please and thanks._

_20 reviews for an update..._

_Vicky xx_


	9. Distinguishing Between Mines and Bombs

_Chapter 9:_

_I don't even remember when I last wrote this story, let alone updated it._

_I don't own anything._

* * *

_Claire's POV:_

I feel unnaturally cold arms lifting me and stir awake, unable to help myself. In Morganville, if you feel something cold touching you, you react first and decide if you were being unreasonable later.

Better to have the chance to rather than be dead.

My eyelids flutter open to reveal Myrnin's face bent close to me, my body clutched in his arms. He appears almost startled by my return – albeit reluctant - to the land of the living, something instantly being hidden as a barrier seems to slide over his near ebony eyes.

"You were supposed to be sleeping," he says disapprovingly, standing still as I wriggle in his arms. All I want is to be able to identify my location, which I think he realises since he releases the iron clad grip enough for me to turn my head. We're around the back of the lab, near Granma Day's house, and it's eerily quiet. I guess it's near to dawn, so the straggling vampires will be returning from the party now, but I don't really care. All I want to do is lay my head against Myrnin's chest – strange, I know –and leave this world to return to the mishmash of bright lights and colours I was dreaming about before.

Yet I force my eyes to remain open as he begins to slowly walk with me towards his lab shack thing in an attempt to stay awake. I don't want to sleep yet; I'm absolutely shattered, but I know I have to carry on working to find Sam.

If I don't, I die.

"Go back to sleep, Claire," Myrnin whispers to me, his tone seductive in a way, though I presume that that wasn't his intention. He probably meant to make it seem as if he is luring me to sleep… and now I _know_ I'm overtired since I'm overthinking things now.

"No, we need to work," I respond, forcing myself to not even blink as we descend into the doom and gloom of his lab: no lights are on and it is so much harder to keep myself awake down here, even only on the third step. "You can put me down now," I allow a touch of irritation into my tone as he continues to hold me in his arms, even as we are at a standstill in the dark lab.

"Allow me one more minute," he says, striding forwards with a grin on his face… well, not really a _grin_, more of a satisfied smirk that slightly worries me. "You see, incase of attacks when I am not home, when the lights are out it means that the mines I placed around here are activated and if anyone but myself treads on the boards, it would kill them. Whilst it would be a nice touch to show Amelie you are capable of killing yourself, I didn't plan on ending my life _today_, and I believe the futility of your death, as well as my own, wouldn't pacify Amelie."

Whoa. Wait… _bombs_?

"Myrnin, you mean to say that you have placed _bombs_ around here?" I ask in alarm, curling further into his side in peril of my existence setting them off.

"Don't be so dramatic," he sighs, as if there is nothing to _be_ dramatic about: he's planted _bombs_! "They aren't _bombs_, simply _mines_. There's a distinct difference between the two!"

"Well, Myrnin, _do_ enlighten me to the difference between a bomb, which explodes, and a mine, which _also_ explodes!"

"A bomb goes _boom_, whereas a mine is more contained."

"Face it, Myrnin, _they__'__re __the __same __thing!_"

And, for the first time since I have known him, he doesn't argue back.

He negotiates a path through the bombs/mines, though if they're only sensitive to his feet, he needn't be so careful, before finally flipping a switch. A noise that I previously thought was background suddenly stops, leaving the lab eerily silent. It reminds me of the time when he was in his self locked cell in prison and I had to come in here by myself… it was soooo quiet – pretty much like this.

"All done," he says, as if this is something that requires showing off.

"Well you can put me down now, can't you?" I snap at him, suddenly feeling the reformed wave of tiredness wash over me.

He shrugs and sets me down on the floor in a very 'you want to get down so I'm going to throw you down' sort of way. Well, if _that_ isn't childish, I don't know what is… oh, wait, probably the entire rigmarole of _booby trapping __your __own __lab __with __bombs _makes it on to the list!

"Go to sleep," he tells me, and I _really_ want to do as he says. But simply because he has said it, I'm not going to.

"No," I stick my chin out defiantly, refusing to do as he says.

He sighs slightly and shakes his head. "Go to sleep, Claire, we need to work later on."

"We need to work _now_, whilst I can still remember, and I don't want to sleep."

"Stop being so childish!"

That gets me.

"_Me_ being childish? This is coming from the man who made his own lab a minefield on the off chance someone would come and go, ooohh look, nobody lives next to the Day house, there must be a secret lab there! Let's go have a little nosy and see if there are any world class secrets in there or something! Of _course_ that bloody well isn't going to happen, but _you_ think so, Mr 'I'm never going to grow up'!" I completely lose it with him, screaming as loud as I possibly can in frustration.

"I never said I'm not going to grow up," he responds, seeming slightly confused by my word choice. _Urgh_, _so_ annoying!

"I never meant it literally… I meant it in the sense that you've redecorated your lab to include bombs, incase people visit! Nobody visits you, Myrnin, that's sort of the point of a secret lab!"

"A secret lab that won't be secret very much longer if you continue to yell at such a volume!" this is the only response he can give me, the ridiculous statement when he normally yells louder than this.

But I don't dispute the point. I can't actually remember the amount of arguments I've had tonight, which isn't something I'm particularly proud or happy about. After all, it used to be me sorting _out_ the arguments between people, rather than being the instigator of them!

"So what are we going to do now then?" I ask, plonking myself down on the ghastly sofa on the edge of the lab. He sighs, getting the idea I'm _not_ going to go to bed before moving across to me, handing over a sheet of paper and a pen.

"We're going to make a list of all the possible places he could he," he says, so I write "Possible hiding locations for a red-headed vampire who is supposed to be dead but isn't" on the top of the paper.

"Well, he could still be in the graveyard," I start with the most obvious one. "I mean, we didn't canvas the _entire_ area incase he was there. And he could be in those tunnels where Morley hid for so many months or whatever… or…" I run out of ideas, realising that, though I've lived here for almost two years, I don't have a clue where any of the hiding places for vampires are.

"I doubt he has remained in the graveyard, now he has regained a little ability to think clearly," Myrnin muses the point, thinking of other places Sam could be hiding, now he's back from his state of comatosis or whatever he's been doing for six months. Maybe he's been writing a book in his head, saving each chapter in his brain for a chance to copy up when he's back. With Sam, this wouldn't surprise me.

"Well, if you're done disputing one of the most probable ideas, want to replace it with a few others, since otherwise he's going to be found in the tunnels," once again, I find myself snapping at him. I force myself to take a deep breath but don't apologise, since he'd just think he could be a crazy ass idiot all the time on this mission, the one that I got roped into because I slagged off Amelie to her face but only was made possible because Myrnin had to interfere to make Oliver angry with everyone.

He sits down opposite me and sighs slightly, shrugging his shoulders. "He could be in the area behind Amelie's house, since there is nothing there besides old warehouses that went out of use many years ago, according to the map of Morganville in Frank… or perhaps the wasteland behind the City Hall – there's a lot of shade there for during the day, not that he'll be thinking about that."

He continues to list places which I have never heard of, meaning I just write them down without questioning. Why would I bother to question them? I mean, I'm not him, having to dispute everything that someone says!

After about fifteen minutes, he tells me that he doesn't know anywhere else – and we have about ten places on here. after all, this is _Morganville_, where security is everything – I doubt there can be many places to look, especially ones where Amelie won't be searching… even though she doesn't know that Sam is actually walking and talking (well more biting and running, but you know what I mean), she'll still be searching those places for the body of Sam, since I presume she won't think that someone has taken his body back to their house…

"So, what do we do _now_?" I ask, flopping back against the sofa. I barely force my eyes open as I feel the beginnings of hunger setting in – I haven't eaten since those mini pizzas in the foyer of the ball all those hours ago.

"_You_ are going to bed, no exceptions," Myrnin informs me, his voice sounding like Amelie's earlier: entirely inflexible and not letting me argue.

"Fine… where?" I sigh, standing up and walking towards the portal.

"No, you have to stay here," he stands up and zooms in front of me, blocking me from going through a portal which isn't actually present in the room since I don't have the strength to summon one. "Stay where you did the other month – I'll be staying out here working… so take the bed and sleep."

"Fine," I repeat, sighing once again as I walk towards the bedroom. As I pass the sofa, I throw my bag down onto the cushion, instantly regretting it as soon as I remember the zip was open and realise that everything has fallen out.

But I'm too tired to be bothered to deal with cleaning it up. All I want to do now is to sleep…

I head into his bedroom and climb into the sheets, slipping away into unconsciousness within seconds of my head touching the pillow. My last thoughts I can remember are regarding realising how strange it is to be going to sleep with the sun being up! Oh, it makes me feel like a vampire...and that is _not_ something I desire.

* * *

_Two __chapters __in __a __row __with __her __falling __asleep__ – __sorry, __I__'__ve __just __remembered __what __I __want __to __happen __next __chapter, __where __she _has _to __be __asleep!_

_15 reviews, or you won't see an update till after my exam _results_ much further into next year than my actual exams are._

_Don't fav/alert without reviewing._

_Vicky xx_


	10. Visitors

_Chapter 10:_

_I don't own anything._

_I didn't update for a while; I apologise for that. I didn't have the motivation to write this story, given nobody really reads it, so..._

* * *

_Myrnin's POV:_

She's sleeping now – I can hear the change in her breathing, hear the slowing of her heart, as she slumbers. She needs the sleep – it's been a long day for her, doing whatever she was before attending the ball, finding out about the missing state of Sam, hunting Sam down and only _then_ finding out that I gave the man a sleeping potion. I think I have had entire _years_ that have less action in them than this one day…and we only have another two to find the rejuvenated (who wouldn't be after six months of sleeping) vampire.

Otherwise Claire will be dead.

I don't doubt that Amelie will follow through on her promise – she loves Sam far too much. I am nothing compared to him. After all, the disease has been cured and she knows roughly how to control the machine: what use does she have to keep me onside with her now? The only reason she remains loyal to me is the past, or even in gratitude for the curing of the disease – if it came down to keeping me 'hers' or not to get what she wants, she wouldn't hesitate to discard me.

She doesn't need me.

Therefore, if we fail, Claire is dead. She cannot hide in Morganville – Amelie knows where she would be. After all, there aren't _that_ many hiding places, certainly not from those who can sense her movements from one hundred metres away. The sun won't help her, certainly not with Amelie chasing her. I conclude that if we fail, she dies. I would not be able to get her out and anyway, Amelie _would_ find her.

Amelie always wins.

I sit in the lab and close my eyes, thinking through absolutely everything once again. I think of absolutely _every_ place one could hide in Morganville, think of every way I could manage to find him and bring him to Amelie in a way that doesn't have _both_ of us killed, think of a way to simply get this near impossible feat accomplished in the remaining two and a half (or so) days we have left. He could be anywhere – I don't actually believe it possible for us to search the _entire_ graveyard in the remaining time we have left, for Claire refuses to allow me to do anything without her.

I could canvas the entire graveyard in one night if she would _just stay home_, yet I _can_ see her point. She ought to be there, if she is the one who will be punished if we fail – which, to simply further my previous point, she will be.

Yet I don't _want_ her there – it's dangerous and I don't want her to run the risk of being hurt or maimed by Sam…or _anything_. Vampires are, once again, roaming the streets at night, for the ball is over, and I am confident that there shall be ones present in the locations where we desire to visit. I _desire_ her; therefore, having her mutilated by those in the tunnels won't exactly improve my mood.

Oh, little Claire. She is the only woman in the world alive whom I want and yet she doesn't seem to realise it. She's too hung up on the damned Collins boy, the one who doesn't deserve her whatsoever, yet his actions only seem to draw her _closer_ to him. If she were a normal child…yet if she were _normal_, she would barely be finishing high school, let alone being here in Morganville.

If she was _normal _and _did_ end up attending TPU, she wouldn't have gotten caught up fighting against Monica and therefore wouldn't have left the campus. No, if Claire were normal… I wouldn't be here now.

All I want her to do is to realise that he _isn't_ for her, that he only thinks about himself and doesn't _really_ care about her. Only then, when she has realised Shane is not the one for her to be with forever, can she finally see the love I have for her, finally see the love she reciprocates for what it truly is – the thing that will make her happier than anything else. Who else but me understands the thirst for knowledge she has, the way that the science world works? Nobody does…that's what makes us so unique – we understand everything about one another already; we're just the ones for one another…no exception.

A strange buzzing noise interrupts my thoughts, and I cannot place it – whilst I have heard it before, it doesn't belong in this lab. However, it suddenly stops, allowing my ears a rest from its high pitched squeaking, something which will destroy my hearing if it…oh, it has recommenced.

I stand up and begin to look around the lab for strange objects that don't belong here, when I pinpoint it to the sofa. But what could be on here other than…Claire's mobile. Of course, I had _entirely_ forgotten about the invention of mobile telephones, of which creates the most irritating noise that I have ever heard.

It cuts off once again and I'm rewarded with a few moments of blissful silence, yet I continue to search for the phone. I don't want it- ahhh, it begins to peal _again_ with a noise so heinous the creator ought to have been shot as soon as he had created it...actually, it's so bad I presume a woman made it.

_Finally_, I find the pesky device and look at the screen to discover the perpetrator of the continual ringing is none other than Mr Collins, the luckiest man on the planet. I deliberate over not answering it but his persistence thus far suggests that he shall not give up until the phone is answered by Claire.

Well, I can give him better than that – I am willing to waste moments of my precious time on the phone to him so that he will stop ringing! Just so that he will give up with the most annoying stunt I believe he has pulled since the 'Bite Club' scenario, I am going to spend my valuable time (which could be put to use saving Claire) on the phone to him. this is in order for him to discover that Claire is _not_ in any danger, she is simply sleeping. Furthermore, he could be ringing to apologise to her for his cruel words earlier (I couldn't help but overhear and it pained me _greatly_…well…) which will serve him right ever more since she has fell into a deep slumber before he could pass on those meaningless, and frankly overused, words.

I answer the phone but do not speak, allowing him the opportunity to have the first words in the conversation.

"Hello, Claire?" his voice sounds uncertain, there evidently being a lack of certainty as to why she isn't answering the phone with her usual, cheery "hello!"

"No, it is Myrnin," I say curtly, unable to help myself when I hear his voice – it makes me want to kill things. "What is your purpose by ringing when she is evidently sleeping, for she has been up all night?" I continue, phrasing it just so that it's a question, yet not particularly so.

I can hear him opening and closing his mouth numerous times, an act which always irritates me – why do humans feel the need to do this? It's more than a little annoying, yet they continue to do it, this being their one 'power kick' over us…or, rather, it is until they die.

"Where is she?" he demands, his voice hardening back to the usual tone it is when he converses with me.

"If you had bothered to listen to what I have said mere minutes ago, you would know that she is sleeping," I snap at him, unable to help myself as usual when conversing with him. If there were to only be one human in the world left excluding Claire, I can assure you he would be the _last_ of my list…I believe even these pesky Republicans who always seem to be arguing with the nice Mr President would be preferable in comparison with this boy.

Unsurprisingly, for we are discussing the boy with the shortest temper in the world – and I include Amelie in this comparison of tempers – he begins to make angry noises and mutter under his breath (forgetting I can hear him perfectly) before responding. "She's sleeping in _your_ bed?" he snarls down the phone at me, his tone less than satisfactory for me. So long as I fill in the correct paperwork, I'm hoping that Amelie shall permit me to kill him. After all, it shall be the one bright spot in my life…but perhaps to ask her _after_ we find Sam, so she is in a better mood – I doubt she'll let me kill someone as obvious in this town as Shane Collins without something substantial in return. Though I'm hoping that she'll be too distracted by Sam being alive for her to ask _why_ he is.

"Well, where _else_ is she going to sleep, on the floor?" I roll my eyes, sarcasm flooding my tone. "Evidently you believe Claire is able to function on no sleep, for otherwise you wouldn't be calling at this time, which is near the middle of the night!"

"It's _seven am_!" he cries down the phone. "She's normally _awake_ at this time, but since you're so…you're so busy…" he trails off, not able to continue this sentence though I have a very graphical image in my head as to what he is implying.

"Yes, I am very busy," I play along, wondering how much it will take for him to be coming over here and trying to kill me. "Claire is asleep, for she has done much work this day…well, I suppose it is more of this evening, since she stayed awake all night," I grin wickedly as I realise what he is hopefully thinking in his mind, filling in blanks that don't even exist.

"Why is her dress here?" he demands suddenly, taking a route of conversation I never expected. Then again, humans these days aren't exactly logical – his question throws me slightly, into revealing the truth.

"She didn't want to wear it; we had to go out on a mission and it was deemed inappropriate by Claire to wear it," I inform him, actually not meaning any of the innuendos possible to be conceived from this statement. "I don't know what you're so worried about, probably from your own extra-relational affairs – but I can assure you the only thing Claire has done is work!"

"URGH!" he screams, sounding awfully like a girl before slamming down the phone in disgust. The suddenness of the action gives me the indication that the phone is most likely in pieces on the floor, shattered beyond use which is possibly the only similarity between myself and him…as much as I hate to admit it.

"Well, _that_ was riveting," I mutter, shutting the phone off instinctively – the beeping is quite possibly the most annoying thing in the world, after Shane, but I'm not entirely sure how the phone works. I have broken so many of the devices that I don't want to-oh, thankfully the phone turns black in a way that I can tell is simply on standby (I think that's the word) rather than being dead, like most phones I touch.

I toss it lightly back into her bag – or, rather, the contents of her bag strewn over the cushion of the sofa – before continuing pacing up and down the lab. Blurring from one side to the other, I run over the list in my head over and over again, wondering if I have overlooked somewhere for being _too_ obvious – but no, I have perhaps even been too cautious and added some of the more idiotic locations a lovesick vampire returning from the dead may head to.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I turn around to hear the sneering of Shane Collins as he stands on _my_ stairs as if he owns them. He takes a step down and lingers, this being on the stair that is the rottenest of the lot of them…a fact I deign _not_ to inform him with a slightly evil tinge to my thoughts. I detest this human more than any of the others – why would I give him a fact that could spare him a little humiliation?

"Pacing, evidently it is something far from your capabilities in the land of the apes to understand," I roll my eyes at him, the usual, slightly jovial hint to my voice entirely absent as it always is when I face this human. Incase I have yet to make it obvious, I cannot stand him. "Now, the first logical question: why are you _here_, in _my_ lab?" I deliberately stress that the lab is mine, therefore insinuating the question why is he here.

Unfortunately, he descends further into my lab before the step breaks – if he had remained upon it for merely another thirty seconds at most, he would be in a pile of cobwebs and perhaps some old human bones…I forget what I put under the stairs all those years ago.

"I want to see her," he tries to look around to find the bedroom but only those who know where it is can locate it within this mess of a laboratory. Amelie continually (or she did, until yesterday) presses me to tidy it, sometimes even sending in workers to do so when I am out, but I never do. When she _does_ get others to tidy it, I deliberately make it into a worse state than before – but it is organised chaos. I know where everything is.

"Now, why would I allow you to do that?" I smile for the first time since he has arrived, yet it is bitter and full of the satisfaction that I know where she is and he doesn't. "She requires rest; hence the fact she is sleeping now rather than being up and about as you rightly said she usually is."

He looks slightly taken aback for a moment (I credit the use of the word 'hence') but then he shakes his head and attempts to put a threatening expression on. I use the word attempts for I am as scared as perhaps a sponge would be when it is pressed against another sponge – ie, not whatsoever, if only for the reason that sponges are inanimate therefore have no feelings.

"She is my _girlfriend_," unfortunately, he continues to be correct in saying this for I am yet to persuade Claire that I am the one for her and not him. "I have the right to see her. You answered her phone…you made me think…"

"You conceived in your own mind that I had had my way with Claire, something which would only occur if she consented," I speak in a low tone, the second clause certainly impossible for him to hear. "As I think you will find if I were asked to repeat my exact words – a feat I am capable of doing – there would be nothing incriminating there. It is simply your belief that there is something that could occur that has you running over here, is that not correct?" I correctly summarise why he is here within mere sentences, ignoring his continual attempts to butt into my explanation.

"I want to see her," he stands his ground pointlessly, pressing for something that shall make no difference to him. he ought to have realised that I have not slept with Claire now, so why he continues to wish to see her is not entirely obvious to me, yet I suppose it could be a point he is trying to make.

Will I _ever_ get rid of the scent of Shane Collins from my lab if I allow him to stay much longer? No, I very much doubt I shall. So should I relent?

"She is through there and to the left," I point the way, sighing as I turn back to notice three test tubes I thought Claire had lost the other week on the side. They evidently missed the cut, so to speak, in terms of my placement of test tubes on the far right bench.

Shane ignores me, simply knocking over piles of perfectly set up documents on various benches across the room on his way to see Claire in my bedroom. Sighing, I begin to pick them up before deciding to simply leave them – they can be something for Claire to do when she returns to work once we have dealt with Sam. I refuse to acknowledge the fact that she may not make it out of this week.

Shane returns suddenly, his face hardened into lines, and I realise I have been spaced out for over fifteen minutes. He could have been saying anything to her, done anything, and I haven't heard a single thing during this entire time.

I half expect him to leave, or try and attack me (I want a good fight with someone other than Oliver, so I can expand techniques once again) but he does neither. Instead, he sits down in the chair where Claire normally sits and stares at me, shooting daggers as soon as I make eye contact with him.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realise I was running a help session for crazy teens today," I say to him sarcastically, relishing the chance to sharpen my humour upon someone so dumb.

"Oh, is the help just for Claire?" he replies, not exactly in the greatest clarity. "I mean, you drag her here half the time; are you simply trying to persuade her to fall into bed with you, or are you just hoping to take advantage?"

So we're back at this stage in the conversation once again. "Neither, boy, so if you would leave now before I rip you limb from limb, do so. I have much to be doing and cannot afford to waste time upon you."

"I'm not leaving till she wakes up and comes with me," he crosses his arms defiantly, looking at me as if I'm some sort of rubbish, I believe the phrase is today. "You tell me where she's been all night and maybe I don't ban her from seeing you. If not, then I..."

"She is more than capable of making her own decisions as to what she does, Shane; she doesn't need you," my tone has perhaps a touch too much acid in it. "Last night…let me see…we attended the ball together, as per Amelie's request, whilst you had too much to illegally drink. Then we were given something to do by Amelie, so Claire returned here to change into the clothes you saw her in mere minutes ago and then we headed out upon this mission before returning here, where Claire promptly fell asleep," I remove the information about our brainstorming for this retard would simply head to those locations and mess up any evidence possibly there of Sam.

"Why didn't she come home?"

"We must work as soon as she awakens, therefore to avoid the questions, it was agreed that she sleep here," I reply, wondering when the childish questions shall stop. "Now, if that's all, please leave."

"No, not without Claire," he repeats…I have a feeling this shall be a long day.

_~an hour later~_

"Leave?" I repeat for the four hundred and seventy second time, wondering when he will bored enough to simply leave. I would kill him yet I have a feeling his father, the machine who has been programmed to never speak to me again, would resurface with a vengeance and then we would be back to the situation of the town having no protection.

"No." he repeats this for the four hundred and seventy second time, causing me to make the decision.

The decision to call in the big guns.

The decision to call in Amelie.

.

Within three minutes of my phone call to her, she is walking through the portal with a disgruntled look on her face. Actually, it's more than that; she hates to be in my presence for longer than she can either threaten me or shoot a contemptuous glance in my direction, so for me to have called her here isn't exactly improving the relations here. in fact, I can't actually remember what I did…oh, yes, I told Claire important vampire politics that ought to have remained between elder vampires and _certainly_ not told to the human help who saved us all.

"Yes?" she sighs deeply, coolness emulating from her.

"Dear Mr Collins is refusing to vacate my laboratory until Claire awakens and comes with him; he is refusing to believe that you set us upon a mission and simply is under the impression Claire and myself spent the night here, together," I say smoothly, shooting slightly childish looks at Shane who rolls his eyes before glaring back.

"Is that all?" she doesn't seem particularly happy to be here – unsurprisingly, in all honesty – yet I cannot tell if she is trying to get back to searching for Sam or to spending time with Oliver.

"Yes, but since I cannot do any _work_ if he is here," I hint subtly, but in an obvious enough way that Amelie, a woman who does not possess a science bone in her body, shall understand.

"Ahhh, yes, how are you getting on with that project you were given last night?"

I make a face, something which seems to give her vindictive pleasure. I can only wish I knew what she said to Claire last night as to whether she is deathly serious about the threat upon Claire's life or not.

"It shall be able to progress _much_ faster when this lump of lard is kicked out of my laboratory," I sniff, indicating the boy continuing to sit in Claire's seat.

"Mr Collins, if you do not leave this instant, I shall have you arrested for various misdemeanours I have overlooked in the past," she threatens him coldly, watching as his face pales slightly. "Go," she orders and he does so, a look of pure hatred directed at the pair of us.

Oh, how I love Shane Collins!

* * *

_Third person POV – yes, **I'm doing third person**!_

Amelie turns to him and sighs, relaxing slightly now that there is no human present (or one that is conscious, at least) yet her expression still continues to appear as if she wishes to throw daggers through his body continually.

"Well?" she questions, as if it is obvious to Myrnin what she desires to know. However, with the topic of information discussed last night and the ultimatum given, he can assume that she is meaning the search for Sam…as, in all honesty, what _else_ would it be?

He focuses upon her, losing any thoughts about Claire as he tries to appease Amelie enough into getting her to drop the three day deadline: to fully search all of those locations, it could take up to a week.

"I…well…we have a list of locations, yet we cannot go until nightfall, therefore meaning that we have only twenty hours, a time period not adequate enough to search them all properly. After all, I doubt he is just lying around," he answers smoothly, deigning to leave the alive status of Sam out of the equation, for that would only complicate things.

"So?" something in her tone informs him that this attempt is futile, that she is not going to give them more time. "_You_ and Claire are the reason I have sent you out on this mission," she continues, but he cuts her off.

"And what makes you think that?" the slightly defensive hint to his tone would have Amelie normally wondering what he has done, but she is beyond that. The silent fury emulating around the room now he is in her presence is unmissable; the seemingly pure hatred towards him would have anyone who didn't know otherwise thinking that they were enemies.

"_Fool_, if you had not informed Claire of the status of Samuel's body, then I would not have been subjected to a _human girl_ lecturing me about love," she hisses at him, eyes narrowed and pure, blazing silver. "You think I sent you out with her to _punish _you, for she is _quite_ obviously in love with that boy? You think I would find satisfaction within something so trivial when _Sam's body_ _is missing_?" under the anger so blatantly obvious it would take an idiot to miss it, there's also shock and a little sadness, Myrnin can tell, that he could think that she valued Sam so little.

"I never insinuated anything along those lines," he begins to answer, yet this time _she_ cuts him off.

"You didn't have to, fool," she growls in his direction, feral the only word to describe her at the current moment in time…feral…and scared. Almost like seeing two different people: there's the feral, vicious monster that wishes to destroy everything since her Sam is missing…and the scared, little, fragile girl who has no idea what to do and is barely stopping herself from crumbling apart.

"Then I don't understand…"

"Oh you _never_ do," his uncompleted sentence seems to infuriate her further, making the situation one hundred times worse. "Let me remind you what happens if you do not find _my_ Sam in the next two days: Claire _dies_. You know I will keep my word; if there is one person about whom I do not take lightly, it is Samuel," she bores her eyes into his, trying to see if he understands.

He does.

"I know," he sighs, tilting his head back and shutting his eyes to avoid shedding the moisture forming there. Does he dare attack Amelie verbally now, or not, for fear that she may reduce their time? "Yet, Amelie, you are being a little greedy, are you not?" he decides to, for they are going to fail anyway. He may as well speed along the process of killing his Claire…though the only stage possible to advance on her death is Amelie making _him_ do it.

"Pray tell," her slipping back into Middle English startles him for a moment, until he remembers this was her preferred time period.

"You are with Oliver now, are you not?" he returns to looking at her, watching as her face freezes in an unreadable expression. "Therefore to demand Sam back as _well_ is more than selfish, it's greedy. You want Sam for the memories he holds, yet Oliver for the present, to attempt to forget Sam. Well, Amelie, this shall not work," his rash, yet correct speech has her silent for nearly a minute before replying.

"I could kill you both right now," is the only response she can muster, his words having hit her in a dangerous place: her heart. "I could _decimate_ you right here, right now, for what you have just said."

"Go ahead," he shrugs, staring right at her to call her bluff. "If you insist on the punishment being Claire's life for not finding Sam, you would destroy me as well. We are going to fail, so why not bring forward the execution date to now?"

She blinks at him, not understanding why he has taken this course, not seeing that he is playing her – if she goes for his words, she is simply doing as he asks…yet if she doesn't, if she remembers the value they both hold for her, perhaps – just perhaps – she shall give them longer.

Her hand shoots forwards to grip him by the throat, her long, pink painted nails digging into his throat, reminiscent of that night in the prison mere weeks ago. "I can see what you are doing fool, and it has not worked," she hisses, culling his hopes instantly. "Come with me to my office and perhaps we can negotiate to a place further towards your demands. She sleeps, I presume, therefore we have no need to remain here."

He nods slowly and she removes her hand from his throat, breathing noticeably. Her blonde hair fans out over her shoulders, yet it is wild and unbrushed, entirely the opposite of what he would normally have expected from her. Her eyes are bright and gleaming ferociously, any images of perfection (and there _were_) from last night entirely eradicated.

"Good," she smiles very slightly, yet it does not mean anything. "Come, Myrnin. After all, as _you_ said, you have limited time."

And this time, the smile reaches her eyes.

He follows her through the portal, entirely focused on ways to perhaps elongate Claire's life, ways to barter things for more time, threats to get the same result – he doesn't think of Claire.

The door slams shut.

Her eyes flash open, wide with panic.

She heard it _all_.

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	11. Secret Trips

_Chapter 11_

_I don't own anything_

_So I basically got like almost 0 reviews last chapter, but I updated because I felt bad as it had been such a long wait last time. Don't expect that next time, though, if you don't bother to review!_

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_Claire's POV:_

Oh my God…no…no, I _can't_ believe that Amelie is going to _kill_ me if I don't find Sam. She can't…why would she? I'm valuable to her, keeping Morganville's balance of power stable with Myrnin, and she definitely needs me. I help her more than she probably realises, going to the damned ball when she wants me to go, going with my _boss _rather than my boyfriend just to keep her happy – and now she wants to kill me?

I swing my legs off the cot bed that Myrnin made me sleep on and bury my head in my hands, throwing my matted hair over my shoulder. He knew about this – that much is obvious from the way she phrased everything. If he hadn't have known, there would have been the explanation of why she wants to kill me, yet all she did was remind him that my life is the penalty if we do not find Sam. She doesn't even _know_ he's alive – and now Myrnin has chased off to her office with her to probably plan how to kill me, since it's obvious that we won't find Sam. We have a basic idea of about forty places where he could be in this town and I bet he'll be in none of them – I'm going to die.

As well as the fact he's probably telling Amelie that he'll kill me himself, I bet his antics will draw the date for it forwards to today, this evening, any time other than when she originally said because he'll have made her so angry that she doesn't want me around anymore. Why she is being like this, I don't know – true, I angered her by insinuating about her loving Oliver more than Sam, yet I would never have expected her to have gone as far as this. I suppose that this shows what true love does to people, makes them act irrationally, without an actual thought process to their actions besides their desired end goal.

Myrnin. The damned man…he's dropped me in it _big_ time and he didn't even bother to tell me! It's just like back when everything came out about what he did for Sam when we were in the graveyard – I just want to punch him _so_ hard, to hit him again and again to vent my fury out at him. Yet I don't want to hurt him either, a part of me reacting furiously as I plan how hard I can whack him with some of the equipment in this lab. he's such a confusing man: sometimes, I think he really, _really_ cares for me – like Shane does – and then others, I'm almost like bait for his plans, a diversion he can throw at Amelie to ensure that he doesn't die.

I can't remain here any longer: if this is going to be my last day or two, I don't want to just sit around whilst I wait for Myrnin to come back so he can protect me as I find Sam: it's _me_ who is going to die, not him, so I don't see why I should be subjected to waiting for him to get back from his little negotiations with Amelie. There's no chance I'm going to get back to sleep now, with the nightmares I would have if I stopped to think about what Amelie was saying in detail, conjuring up images of what could happen – the nightmares would be worse than the actual deed itself, probably. No, sleep is not possible for me. it's the thing that would destroy any dregs of belief that I could possibly continue to clutch onto that we – _I_ – can find Sam before he kills again, as well as in the time frame set.

It's silent in the lab – there's no chance that he is here, the portal completely locked up so it would take him a good few minutes to get through and back to me. I can't figure out if that's so that there's no chance of me hearing their conversation if I would happen to wake up, or simply a precaution so that Amelie can't send anyone through if she happened to get ridiculously angry with me through what Myrnin says.

My eyes drop onto a cloak on the side that's pretty thick and warm looking, evidently what Myrnin wears when he goes outside in the sun, if he's feeling particularly weak that day, and I slip it on over my shoulders. It _has_ to be filled with weapons in discrete places, and I'm not disappointed when I find a knife in the first pocket, which is always a good start. Breathing in through my nose, I find the scent from the cloak strangely appealing, the unmistakable smell of Myrnin drawing into my nostrils and doing strange things to my brain. It's so tempting, the clarity of each molecule of it making my mouth water as I want to smell the real thing, rather than the almost imitation for the lack of him being around. I don't _want_ to think like this, especially with everything that is going on as well as _Shane_, but I can't help it, a good portion of my brain continuing to think of the almost drug-like smell the cloak brings to me as I begin to prepare for my departure.

It's cold outside if last night is anything to go by, so I need this – it will help me keep warm and more inconspicuous in the dark places I know I'll be visiting, to humans at least. Vampires will be able to smell me from god know's how far away, but at least a human may assume that I'm a scary vampire (good luck with that) and that they shouldn't approach me. Alternatively, this could make me a target, but I'm thinking I'll take my chances if it means I can stay warm – I didn't think last night to bring more than blankets and you can't really walk around wrapped in those.

The list of places we were going to search together lies on the side of the table in a handy location, right next to one of the powerful torches we took out last night and that I used to guide my way. The two of them are there and I make sure that I don't pick up the one that I used because that has all the reminders of those minutes when I exploded at him about his desires to kill me. That was a bad moment and I don't really want to be carrying that around with me all day when I'm going into potentially ridiculously dangerous situations.

The blood cooler is on the other side of the lab, so I make my way across there carefully, just incase the locking of the portal triggered the bombs (_seriously_, there is absolutely no difference between bombs and mines) and that moving the heavy box means that I'll blow myself to smithereens. A bonus to that, on the other side, is that I don't have to face Amelie and tell her I failed – not going to be a brilliant situation that, is it? I still can't believe that _Amelie_ wants to kill me just because I'm not going to find Sam – I just don't know how she can be behaving in such a manner towards me just because I yelled at her. Sure she misses Sam and didn't exactly deal with her pain towards his passing properly, yet I don't see how she needs to react _quite_ this bad, just to get his body back.

"Well, _that_ was a bright idea," I mutter to myself as I try and lift the blood cooler up, but it is _way_ too heavy. All that happens is that I end up knocking it over with a thud, the contents spilling out onto the floor in a sea of crimson. Thankfully all the blood is in bags, but it still sickens me to see how much extra blood Myrnin has been storing up -this is extra to what he needs, blood that he probably normally takes to ensure that he doesn't bite me again. Does this mean that I've been in more danger these past few months since he started this collection than I perhaps would have normally been, because he hasn't bothered to drink this? Does it mean that he was more likely to bite me if I had perhaps cut myself, that he wouldn't have been able to restrain himself like he would have if he had been entirely sated, rather than simply satisfied? That's a question for him later – _if_ I make it through.

Something tells me that that isn't entirely likely.

All the things I need gathered together, I head up the stairs at the front of the lab, cursing as one foot nearly falls through one of the larger holes in the second to top stair – if I had fell, I'd have landed in the middle of the bags and bags of blood, which would be a nice addition for Myrnin if he happened to come back. However, I manage to keep my balance – just – and climb out of the lab in one breath, not daring to breathe incase I tip myself backwards.

Outside, I walk slowly down the alleyway, my eyes scanning over the list of places I can get to during the day. I don't want to go to the really dangerous places, like where Morley used to hang out, without Myrnin because at least he can protect me. I may be a fast learner, yet that doesn't really help me fight off vampires – in the multiple – to stop them from killing me if that's what they want. I'll just stick to those places more along the beaten track where there's less chance of me being attacked and not being found for weeks.

Granma Day is sitting on her porch, yet she's facing the opposite way so I think she can't see me. However, as I walk by, she calls my name, "Claire? Were you not coming to say hello to Granma Day?" she sounds hurt by my attempts to get by her without her realising, something which I also realise is out of character for me because I always see her when I can. I don't want her thinking something is up and then…and then blaming Myrnin when I die. Even though it'll be his fault in all technicalities since he's involved everywhere (starting with Sam's taking of the potion to not telling me about this ultimatum Amelie gave him) in it, I don't want Granma Day going crazy – she's a _very_ scary lady when she wants to be.

"Hey, Granma," I smile as I walk up the steps towards her chair, deciding that there's no harm in taking ten minutes out to talk to her. "How are you?"

"A lot better than you are, girlie," she surprises me by sounding as if she knows what's going on, which both surprises and doesn't surprise me at the same time. She's old "friends" (if such a term can be used between a vampire more than one thousand years old and a human) with Amelie, so I presume that she's probably heard _everything_ about Sam's state of absence from his grave. "Come sit and tell me all about it," she urges me, patting the chair next to her with a concerned expression on her face.

"I…I don't know what I can tell you," I whisper hesitantly, unsure whether I should go to tell her _everything_ or stop at what Amelie knows.

"The White Queen told me that dear Samuel's body has been taken and that she has told you that you and the trapdoor spider have three days – two now, for I presume she would be counting yesterday as a day – to find him or you're doomed." so basically, Amelie told her everything that she herself knows about the situation.

"That's it," I sigh, leaning back in my chair and squeezing my eyes shut. "Granma, I…I don't think we're going to find him. And she's going…she's going to _kill_ me if I don't find him," tears begin to spill out of my eyes as I tell her what I heard, unable to stop the overreaction to my own words.

She says nothing, simply allows me to cry it out for a few moments, speaking only when I am once again quiet. "Child, hush. She is hurting, can you not see that? Though it would be more than my life is worth to betray the confidence she has in me, I know all about the struggles with her and Samuel. She has not moved on from him, Claire, and this is only reviving all past memories of him in the most painful of ways," her voice is low and reminds me of Amelie's own tone.

"So…so she's behaving irrationally and she isn't going to…?" I trail off as she shakes her head slowly and calmly.

"I never said that, Claire. I know nought what goes on inside that head of her's, though I presume that if you don't bring her Sam, she will never behave rationally again. No, but I can say that you've a great ambassador for your life in that trapdoor spider of yours because, from what Amelie said," her final sentence surprises me, for _what_ has Myrnin done that is a great enough problem (besides, you know, for the whole telling me about Sam's disappearance) for Amelie to tell her confidante?

"What do you mean?" I inquire, wiping my eyes as I lean forwards to try and get the explanation out of the elderly woman. However, now she realises what she has said, I can see a closing of a gate in her eyes, something that signifies to me that she isn't going to say a single word about it.

"I'm not going to tell you, as you probably know, but just remember that no matter what happens, he's not going to give up without a fight," she tells me, a small, yet not entirely approving smile upon her lips. "And perhaps you are debating what _could_ be, not what will be, girl. After all, you've got brains and legs – you can get out looking for him now and find him." she smiles properly this time, reaching out to squeeze my hand before pulling me to my feet somehow without moving herself.

"Thanks," I say as I walk down the steps, watching as she turns around to watch me walk. "I'll see you later, ok?"

She chuckles slightly, with only the hint of humour, "You better, or I'll be having words with the White Queen myself."

And, with that, I walk away.

_~x~_

There's a building not far from Myrnin's lab that apparently he could be in, but there's _no_ chance I'm going in there. As I walk past it, a shiver runs down my back – it's entirely inhibited by vampires, I'm sure of it, and they're not the vampires that I happen to spend my time with. They're the vagrant ones, the ones either banned from attending the ball or who were sat furthest away from the table I had been seated at, due to my partner. There's absolutely no chance that I would be able to go in there and walk out alive without Myrnin protecting me.

Myrnin…sometimes, I hate him _so_ much for basically ruining my life, then others I think what would my life be like without him? I can't actually remember a day in Morganville that I haven't known about Myrnin; sure there were the first few weeks, but they happened so long ago that they're mingled in with pre-Morganville memories. Myrnin is pretty much my _entire_ Morganville past and present, the one who gets into every main event that has happened here – even my first _pay cheque_ in life came from Myrnin! He's such a huge part of my life and it pains me every time that Shane tries to make me leave working for Myrnin because, well, he's one of my best friends and I get on with him so well. He's the only person who completely gets me, who understands how I can spend hours on one tiny detail in a formula to get something to be absolutely perfect, who knows how I work in silence because it's easier to concentrate, not because I'm moody.

But he's not the focus right now, or the thoughts of confusion about him and what it sometimes feels like between us or Shane and _everything_ – why can't things just be normal and easy to work through, like normal people's lives? But oh no, I have the complex love life and spend my time with the vampire who loves another but is with another…yay!

I run past the last part of the house with the darkened windows and hope with all my heart that I never have to go in there. If we find Sam first, it'll mean that we don't have to go to the scary house…we just may find him in a place that I haven't see yet and that may be scarier than this place.

_~x~_

I head towards Sam's old flat, which I know Amelie kept vacant because she couldn't abide someone else to be where he lived – and I have a feeling, at first, she went out and visited it. The door to the building is unlocked and I slip through it, embracing the darkness for a moment because it means I can hide from the couple of people scurrying around at midday…evidently, everything that's gone on in Morganville, especially of late, I guess that nobody wants to be out in public alone. So I walk through the entrance bit and through three or four different corridors to find the door that I want, knowing that it will be open: it's never been locked, not that any human would dare to go into the flat of a vampire – especially a dead one that was the lover of the Founder. Amelie told me a long time ago that she would never lock the door, incase those who deserved to be close to Sam decided to visit, and I'm thankful – maybe it'll mean that I can find him here.

One hand clenched inside my cloak with a blood bag in the middle, I push the door open and take a deep breath of expectation. I've built it up in my mind to the point where I half expect to find him lounging on his sofa, waiting for a human to come past so he can pounce…but there's nothing.

Absolutely nothing is found that shouldn't be in the flat – or, rather, shouldn't be there after the occupant died – and it's almost an anticlimax to be faced with the empty room. The easiest place he could have been and he's not here…if I were a pessimistic person, I'd say that that shows where the afternoon shall be heading, into dangerous situations, but I'm not so I'm just going to say that it's a small setback.

But, ultimately, it's one that shortens my life expectancy.

I replace the blood bag in my pocket and dig the list out to cross off this place on it, leaving one less place to go look at. I don't even want to contemplate looking at the amount of other places I have to go look because that'll just depress me and I want to be on the top of my game as I search in scary places.

Retreating out of the building with haste, I dig my phone out of my pocket, grateful that I stopped to pick it up before I left the lab. It looks in like it's in a slightly worse state than before, but that doesn't bother me because it's only a phone and I'm in a situation where death is imminent for both me and nine other humans in Morganville.

Flicking through my contacts, I find Shane's name and take a deep breath before clicking it to dial, wondering what he'll say. The last time we spoke was only a few hours ago but he hung up on me and was less than happy. In fact, I think he was more along the lines of furious with me, which could help explain some of the reason why he's not picking up right now.

As I walk through the streets and past Common Grounds (not going in_ there_, thank you very much, what with everything going on), I try ringing him over and over, waiting, hoping, that he's going to answer, but he never does. I even try the house phone, but I guess either nobody is in or I'm getting ignored because it goes to answerphone after a few dials. Michael _was_ pissed off with me last night, which wasn't pleasant but it would explain why he's blanking me, same probably for Eve, and if Shane and Michael put together their experiences of me yesterday and who I was with, that would make for them both being pissed off. Not that it has anything to do with Michael and it _is_ entirely innocent (at least, entirely on my half) with Myrnin, so I don't see any issues with what I'm doing, but that's boys for you.

_~x~_

Three hours later, I've searched in seven different places, came across four slightly angry vampires who backed away when they saw who I was, and have still not found Sam. My phone died entirely after my fifteenth phone call to Shane, so I haven't been able to tell Myrnin where I am if he returned and got worried (though he sort of deserves to worry, even if I am sort of getting over that he knew about my death threat thing) or speak to Shane if he called me back.

It's getting darker now and I don't fancy going into any more of the buildings in Morganville that could harbour vampires, so the only place left is the graveyard. It sounds stupider than going into vampire buildings, for it's filled with bodies and the clichéd hangout for vampires, but Myrnin told me that they don't really come here.

_._

"_Myrnin," I asked quietly when we were working on one of the experiments he felt was vital to complete._

"_Yes, little one?"_

"_You know how there was the crisis when…when Bishop burned the blood bank down?"_

"_Yes?"_

"Why_ was there a crisis? I mean, it's disgusting, but why didn't you all think to go to the graveyard and drink from the bodies there?"_

"…_Claire, we don't grave rob. Only in the times of the absolute greatest need, when it makes the difference between life and death, would we do that, for it is both unpleasant for us taste wise and also morally. Even _I_ have a soul, Claire, and the idea of digging up a body to drink from them is most crude."_

"_So you_ don't _hang around in graveyards?"_

"_No…I think the longest I have spent in a graveyard was when I was spying on Amelie and the man she was attached to in the past for a few weeks. I think I spent all of three hours there…graveyards are not pleasant places, even for vampires."_

.

No, it should be the safest place on the list, _if_ Sam isn't here. If he is still here, because it's convenient for him to stay close to where he lived for six months, I'm basically in it big style because Myrnin isn't going to come for me as he doesn't know where I am (and he's probably still in the middle of his little discussion with Amelie) and so I'm going to be found like where the other humans were found.

Breathing heavily, I walk towards where Myrnin parked last night and down the path where we headed. The wind begins to nag at the back of my neck, sending shivers down my neck as it howls through the trees. The eerie sounds you hear in horror films when the main character is walking through the trees begin to pick up in a stereotypical manner, the shadows seeming darker than last night even though it was later.

"Pull yourself together, Claire," I tell myself in a low voice, "Chill out and turn on the torch. You're here for Sam, remember, not to get scared about the trees," I manage to laugh ever so slightly but it sounds forced to my own ears, hysteria about to come through if I don't stop. Maybe this was a bad idea.

The last rays from the sun seem to disappear as I walk further into the woods, looking for the tree where Myrnin pointed towards where Sam's grave is. I find it pretty quickly, tightening the cloak around my arms as the temperature seems to drop ever further down towards zero Celsius, and then turn right at this marker, heading for Sam's torn up grave.

In the distance, the sight of the mounds of earth around where I presume Sam's grave lies – I never visited, it hurt too much – signify that I must be almost here. There doesn't seem to be any signs of movement around, which is both good and bad because it means that there is no danger but that he isn't here in the most obvious of places, and it's pretty open so it's a little safer, I think. The lack of trees mean that the moon shines through in a rather ominous matter but it allows me to see more without the need to throw the torchlight in every direction, means that it soothes my nerves about the cracking of a twig or the twoot of an owl.

Advancing towards the grave, I turn every now and then to make sure that that the feeling of breath on the back of my throat isn't really that and that I'm alone – I am, thankfully. So I walk forwards and watch as the moonlight seems to shine exactly upon Sam's grave, the headstone to one side of what seems to be a gaping hole…where he should be.

_Samuel Abelard Glass_

_Forever in our hearts_

There's some more at the bottom but it seems to be in latin, so I presume that Amelie had that inscribed at the bottom to commemorate their love. I don't know what it says and I'm not going to hazard a guess at trying to translate it with a translator because a) that's not the focus of the point right now, staying alive is, and b) it'll probably come out as gobbledegook.

I get absorbed in the sights of his grave, the way the piles of earth are almost symmetrical, the smashed up state of his coffin as he evidently fought to get out. I don't hear the approach.

A hand places itself lightly on my shoulder, a rippling snarl moving throughout the air to hit my ears.

I scream.

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	12. Myrnin

_Chapter 12:_

_I don't own anything_

_I don't generally update this fast, particularly at the minute, but it's the year anniversary of this fic (which is bad, given how short it is) and so I decided to update for you all!_

_And also, I won't be updating till the end of May at the earliest, because of exams, so if you want more of my writing, check out other stuff/oneshots I may write in the intervening time period!_

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_Myrnin's POV:_

She's going to do it. I can tell; there is something about Amelie today that is dangerous, feral to the point that I barely recognise her. There's almost a sense of lost hope, a sense that she has lost everything anyway so why can't she be reckless and selfish, just this once, that there's nothing left in life for her to love and therefore she can destroy those who _have_ feelings for another living being, be them a vampire or human. And this is what makes her so utterly dangerous to me and to Claire, this lack of moral understanding – she is a vampire through and through now, akin to her Father, and that merely leaves us in an extremely dangerous predicament. She has no reason to lie to me, either: if she has said that she will renege upon her promise, she _will_. There are no hidden meanings in her words, nothing to suggest that perhaps she will allow Claire to live; she has said what she will do, what she wants, and there is little chance of me changing her mind.

We walk into her office and she sits down immediately, her position entirely the opposite of what it was merely days ago, when she called both myself and Claire in regarding the ball. It seems so long ago that this occurred, when it was in actual fact merely five days ago – and for a vampire to be saying that it feels so long ago, it most certainly is. Five days would normally pass in a blink of an eye for me, in human terms, yet it feels almost as though it was another century during which I still felt the potential between the pair of us.

The deathly silence in the room – not even broken by her drumming of her fingernails, as is what usually occurs – is haunting, reminding me of those years of majorly solitude in my laboratory, the silence not aiding my fight against the disease. My madness then was far greater than it is now, merely a flicker of insanity inherited from my human life through my Father.

"Well…" I try to break the silence with a cheery voice, yet it sounds false, even to my own ears. Ever the optimist Myrnin has been replaced by someone scrabbling for the chance to save his entire life from being wiped out in one blow, fighting to the last breath to ensure that there is something to live for left in two days time. Especially because it is _my_ fault that we are being forced to do this – if I had simply told her that he was coming back, everything would be fine now. Amelie would be happy, I would be happy, Oliver would…well, Oliver is _never_ happy, yet would most likely be more depressed than he is now, something that has near to no impacts on me.

Amelie's expression is indifferent as I lapse back into silence, the same angry hint to the features that are, as almost always, neutral. She has always had an ability to hide her true feelings, only those who have known her for centuries being able to decipher the hidden meaning beside the indifference.

Well, it's not _that_ hard to guess, is what I mean. Usually when I am given the context, I am able to presume (on the whole, accurately) how she feels, the case normally being that I am correct.

"You _know_ you have something you desire to say to me, Myrnin, or else why would you have returned to my office with me?" her gaze turns towards the blacked out windows, her eyes distant and unseeing, though her tone is as hard as nails and brittle as glass. It's the voice that I have only heard her use in relation to her Father, someone who holds a lower place in her heart than I believe could ever be described. He blackened her heart, twisted it into a near irreparable state that was only healed by Sam; Bishop is someone who I feel she would destroy without a second's hesitation if given the chance.

And to be spoken by Amelie to _me_ gives me the impression that I am expendable in her life now, that if she is hurting, she won't give a damn to destroy me. After all, for the both of us, survival has been the key above friendship – and it seems that love ranks above it also.

"You're right," I breathe heavily as I speak, making full use of my lungs as I so rarely and unnecessarily do. "I wish to bargain with you, Amelie, for Claire's life."

Evidently intrigued, she sits forwards an infinitesimally small amount to show her interest in my point. "And what could _you_ have to bargain with _me_ for the life of a human?" she asks me, her voice slightly warmer, with a hint of a question in there. "After all, I own all in this town. If I desire something, I can simply take it…so why would I be interested in a _bargain_?"

I lean forwards slightly, closer to the woman who has always been my dearest friend, and don't try to attempt to hide my emotions; I want her to see me raw, angered, tired…_everything_ that I have tried to hide from Claire. If Amelie is set upon this deadline, of which will be impossible to achieve, I fear, then we have no chance of victory; there is almost no possibility of even _me_ finding Sam, let alone with Claire insistent on coming along with myself. Whilst it afforded me a chance to speak with her, a chance for her to see that there are feelings between us, this is not going to aid us in the long run, is it? If she is then taken from me by Amelie, what good will it do in knowing she had love for me, when she is no longer with me? There _is_ no purpose, so why must I hide my emotions any further?

"You will be interested in a bargain," I inform her slowly, an attempt to keep my voice steady seeming as though it is failing. "Because, Amelie, otherwise, you shall loose me, forever. There will be no control of the town, for the town shall be allowed to disband; I have no desire to keep something running which holds no benefits for myself. Kill Claire, and you destroy Morganville. Are we clear?"

Her eyes narrow as she looks at me, evidently trying to appraise how truthful I am being and whether or not I will, indeed, go through with my threats if Claire happened to suddenly die – at whose hands, be it dependent on. "You are being sincere?" Amelie asks, sounding slightly doubtful as she struggles to come to a conclusion based on my facial expressions, all of which could be simply a distraction.

I nod, keeping my eyes focused on her every second. As I complete the movement, her face begins to change to an expression of near anger, as though she doesn't believe that I hold the power I do – she doesn't like being in the control of another, needing to do something for someone else just to keep what pitiful possessions she owns. After all, there is little doubt that she would never leave Morganville – for all her 'feelings' for Oliver, I doubt that they equate to the same as her love for Sam…and if we don't find him, then his body remains missing. She would never leave if he was not found, even if it became evident that there was not one single place in which he could be hiding, or be stashed.

"I am of the utmost sincerity when I say that I _will_ follow through on my threat; you will not have me renege on my promise to destroy Morganville's defences, if it happened to be that you or your followers killed Claire for not succeeding to find Sam," I confirm, confident in the knowledge that nothing but the truth will ring through in my eyes' emotions.

Amelie presses her hands together, and I become acutely aware that she has plans to try and decimate my argument; she may not yet have the words, but I have always been able to see when she is thinking – and _how_ she is thinking, in a sense – by the rapid nature of her eye movements as this occurs, the sense that she is distant from the situation we are currently in.

Finally, she settles on something, a question I am sure will have been well designed in order to hurt me, though I am sure that I shall be able to handle it. There are, after all, a limited number of questions that are plausible in this situation, and fewer still that will actually impact on me.

Yet she surprises me. "And what about Claire?" she asks, deigning to continue straight on into the rest of the question before I can ask her to clarify. "You desire her to survive, and I shall, however ungraciously, acquiesce to your request. However, _she does not desire to be with you! _Has this not been made clear, by the way that she continually spurs your advances, the way that there has never been so much as word contrary to the idea that she adores Shane?"

I should have known that she would take this angle, that she would choose to take the path of the apparent lack of reciprocated love between Claire and myself; it would, after all, be the argument I would make for herself, if she happened to be in this situation. However, it does not make it hurt any less, that my closest friend – for vampires have long realised that there is no purpose in forming multiple friendships, due to the changing nature of many allegiances – would choose to hurt me in such a brutal manner, just to attempt to get 'revenge' on my annihilation of her threats to my dearly beloved.

"This has no relevance to what we are discussing, Amelie," I manage to reply in the coolest voice I am able to muster, allowing no emotion but pure anger to pass through onto my face. I catch sight of my appearance in the mirror behind her, and see nothing but a blazing mess of anger, shining dark holes for eyes amidst a great quantity of brown hair that seems to be standing on end: pure anger looks like this on myself, for I recognise this from previous trying times. "Naturally, I shall answer you. Humans are able to dilly-dally in love, to take their time with it, for they feel that they must have the correct life experiences in order to be able to judge whether or not their partner is their lifelong soul mate. In our case, it is more of an eternity, rather than merely a human life. Yet this does not mean that the wisdom _we_ own is able to be passed through to her; she has seen me in my darkest of days, and yet she has not yet run away.

"She continues to stand beside me, to work with me, to accompany on missions that I have said that I did not want her to go on – because I _love _her. There have been signs of reciprocation, yet I would _hardly_ imagine you able to recognise them given it took you decades to recognise that _your_ love was wasted, for you feared unnecessarily. No matter if Claire never realises she loves me – though I am most confident that we shall unite together, in the not so distant future – I would _never_ wish her dead, never wish for her to leave this world, no matter how much it may pain me to see her happy with another whilst I am present. You evidently misunderstand the meaning of love, Amelie, though this is not something I particularly desire to spend the rest of the day debating with you, for you will, naturally, attempt to use your power to overcome my arguments." I realise, by the end, that I have gotten a tad personal, as well as into dangerous waters, what with her opinion on my discussing of her love life, yet the anger within me that she dares to assume that I would never allow Claire to live and yet be with another – or, indeed, for Claire to love me – is so strong that I cannot help but throw this attack at her.

For a long while, Amelie doesn't utter a word, her face betraying the shock she evidently feels as to my response to her attack. Then, slowly but surely, she begins to return to a state of normality, her lips pursing slightly in what I can only presume is anger for my bringing up of facts pertinent to her when she had tried to dictate the conversation.

"Very well," she sighs, finally relenting as she evidently concludes that she cannot win. There is no way for her to have a valid reason for killing Claire – therefore, I have succeeded in my bartering mission, to ensure that Claire survives no matter how successful we are in finding Sam. However, her face turns sourer, and I get the distinct feeling that her next words will not be complimentary. "You have gained this through sheer luck, as well as the fact that I could not actively hurt you; this is for our friendship, and please bear in mind that you will _never_ be given something like this again. Never request something on such grand a scale as this, for only my affection for you is allowing me to decide that your request shall be granted. Do you understand?"

She is lying; I know I shall always be able to get what I want from her, especially now I know exactly how to threaten her, yet I need not alert her to this fact. False humility is something I perfected many centuries ago, most likely for the benefit of this woman for I have forgotten, and it is sometimes better to play as though I am a scared citizen of Morganville, rather than someone who has been with her through everything. Pretending to be accepting of the words she has just said, yet I did not particularly pay attention to, is much easier than having to argue further – and there is always a chance that she would grow bored and renege on her promise in a fit of pure anger.

"Fine, we are in agreement, then," I lean backwards in my chair, unconcerned about showing my feelings any longer, because I have gotten what I wanted. We have no need to rush to find Sam – though I guarantee that I _will_ find him, so long as it keeps things as they are with Claire's existence in the world – as I feel the three day deadline has been lifted.

"That is indeed the present scenario, yes," Amelie is cool as she responds, her eyes focusing on the desk in front of her, rather than on me. "You may leave now, Myrnin; I have no further desire to hear you either desire Claire further, or insult my current feelings in regards to our common…_ally_. After all, you _must _still find Sam, you understand?"

I agree: I do not want to hear any further about Oliver, and, God forbid, her _feelings_ for him, therefore I may as well leave and tell Claire about the way she doesn't have to fret…not that she knew, naturally, that she would die if we didn't find Sam. I'll try and reword it so that that is left out of the picture.

"Goodbye, Amelie, enjoy feeling _emotions_ – something that is so rare for you, in any case," I reply in a relatively jovial manner. However, before she can retort, I dart through the office and back to the portal, heading back to the laboratory prior to the attack of her acerbic tongue.

The lab seems almost _too_ quiet, as though it shouldn't be…where…why do I not hear breathing? Unless, in the short period of time I have been out of the office, someone has been in and either killed or abducted Claire, there ought to be the sounds of her respiring, oxygen entering her body and cells. Yet there is nothing. No sounds issue _anywhere_ from the entire underground space, and the only breathing within a three hundred yard radius is that of Granma Day – someone who scares even me, I regretfully confess – and her breathing is so pronounced, it could never be confused with Claire.

She is not here.

She has left.

My head spinning, I begin to run around the laboratory, trying to find tail ends of her scent in the hope that the newest trail will inform me of where she has headed – if she has taken the portal, gone for a walk…_anything_. It is dangerous out there, especially for a girl who has slept so little, and I worry that she will…she will not understand what to do. Oh, the possibilities! There are so many heinous things that could occur, especially if…

I race across the room, my eyes wild and searching as I try to locate the list of places where Sam could be! It isn't here; none of the equipment I gathered for her to use, for I have no need for it, is here either…she has taken everything.

For the first time, I wonder if she had not been asleep when Amelie arrived earlier, whether she had heard the repeated threat against her life and acted rashly in order to try and find Sam before her time ran out. Not, of course, that it _would_, given what I have secured…yet she is not aware of this.

It is evident where she has gone. She has gone looking for Sam. Unless she has been abducted by the man himself, something I doubt because I cannot smell him here, she has gone off on her own to find him. I _would_ merely go after her, would go and find her as quickly as possible…but I can't.

As well as needing to feed, there is the matter of the fact that there is up to forty locations on that sheet of paper – and, knowing Claire, she shall _not_ have gone about the list in a logical order, starting either at the top, or the closest one to her base. She will be running all over town, something which ought to make it easier to find her (one could merely intercept her on her travels, then, and have her see that it was a fool's errand) but it won't. Because, you see, this is _Claire_, and if she doesn't want to be found, she usually manages to evade capture. I, a vampire who doesn't have enough blood in his system _anyway_, shall most certainly be no use finding her.

And so, mere minutes after leaving her office, I find myself on the way back through the portal and into Amelie's office, haste due to worry causing me to not even wait for permission.

Naturally, Amelie's eyebrows raise as she spies me entering her office, the traces of anger residing on her face from my previous comment. "Well? Unless you have returned to insult your oldest friend further, Myrnin, I see no need for you to be here."

"Claire is missing. I think she has gone on her own to find Sam," I stress the urgency of the matter as far as possible, daring not to look into the mirror to discover what the physical appearance of my worry is. "_You_ may not believe this to be a concern, yet if she _does_ find him, how will I get there before he…before he kills her?" too late, I realise that I have revealed that Sam is alive, that he is moving around and _more_ than capable of snapping the delicate neck of _mon cheri_, before draining her of the source of life that makes her so incandescent.

Amelie splutters, something which is probably one of the most unladylike things I have ever seen her do, and this is evidently her reaction to Sam being alive. However, she manages to regain control far enough to press a button on her desk.

"I…Sam is _alive_?" she gasps, and I can tell that she is as frantic as I am; evidently, her intrigue has been sparked further by the knowledge that her lover is alive, something I worry about explaining to her – yet it can wait till later. Knowing he is alive can only be something positive to Amelie; I may not have the same fortune, if Claire does happen to come across Sam, for he will not control himself enough to recognise Claire before killing her.

"Yes, but that is a story for another day, once we have found Claire, and, naturally, hopefully Sam in the near future also," I stumble over my words in my desperation for Amelie to understand just how grievous it could become if she doesn't help me rescue Claire_ now_.

"I shall send every guard possible to search for her, Myrnin; you both have use to me, if this is the only reason for my actions, and I am not about to allow _my_ Samuel to kill Claire," Amelie sounds fierce as she confirms everything I want to know. She plans to fight for Claire…for me. "Though, mark my words, Myrnin, you _will_ be expected to explain what has occurred in regards to my Samuel when all is well, do you understand?"

"Yes, yes, perfectly," I mutter, not daring to look at her, for I know that I was in the wrong about Sam. "Yet can we _please_ move forwards in the search for Claire? Then, I swear, I'll tell you everything."

Her mouth moves into the slightest of smiles, and she nods before standing up. "Then we must hasten towards our mission's goal, Myrnin. After all, only _then_ will we get the answers to the questions our hearts desire to ask, shall we not?"

It is in this moment that I realise, more than ever before, Amelie is the woman you desire in a crisis. Especially when it involves a mad alchemist – who admits his state of mind isn't exactly sane – who is on the search for his human assistant of whom he loves, from the town's Founder's lover, who may or may not be crazy.

Thank the heavens.

* * *

_**don't** favourite/alert/**read** without reviewing, please and thanks!_

_Vicky xx_


	13. Uncertainty

_Chapter 13:_

_I don't own anything_

_I'd love it if you all reviewed this chapter, thanks!_

* * *

_Claire's POV:_

It's Sam.

After all, who else would it be? But more than that…it's _Sam_.

It's the man who we've been trying to find, the man who needs blood, the man who has _killed_ nine people already, and even though he's closer to sanity than he was with them, he still needs my blood. My blood is just the next part in the steps to make him return to normal, because of what Myrnin did to him _and then forgot about him_, and it seems fairly obvious that I'm now going to die. I won't be able to escape, especially with him wild like this, and nobody knows I'm here. Due to what I heard, I couldn't stay there…I just couldn't. To allow the possibility that I could die, just because we couldn't find Sam, when I was perfectly able to go out, it was stupid.

Almost as stupid as forgetting what to do when I _found_ Sam…

Of course! I have the blood in my pocket; it won't be much, almost certainly not enough to satisfy him – and not as much blood as I must have within me – but it could be enough for me to distract him whilst I run. The machine will let me into the system to set up a portal, I'm sure of it, but I need a few minutes to do that, and I don't think I'll have that when he's biting into my neck to drain me dry.

I find myself unable to hold in a grunt of pain as Sam throws me to the ground, though I can feel that it takes him effort to do this, when it ought not to. He is far weaker than a full-strength vampire, and if I staked him, he would probably die. Whilst that could feasibly save my life, I know that I could never do that, not to Sam, even if he tries to kill me. There is a line drawn in every situation, and two vampires I could _never_ stake are Sam and Michael – everyone else isn't innocent like they are, the latter being the vampire with the most good in the entire _world_.

Behind me, I know that he stands, waiting to pounce, and it seems strange that he hasn't attacked so far, but perhaps this is how he's going to be. Perhaps, as he returns, he'll be a 'regular' vampire, one who doesn't care for humans besides what they can give him – blood – and there'll be no hope, for him or for me. I don't know.

All I know is that he has bloodlust, and I'm a human with apparently _very_ tasty blood.

"Sam," I begin by saying his name slowly, trying to assess my injuries, talk and subtly moving backwards to try and get my back against something solid. Then, I can see if I have anything to distract him with in my bag – my head hurts so much from when he threw me, so it takes too much effort to think of what I brought with me – and not have to worry about my front and back. After all, if he attacks from the front, there's very little I can do.

There's no reaction to his name that would indicate that he recognises even who _he_ is, let alone my identity. Bracelets mean nothing to him, as shown by some of the victims from before who were Protected, and there's a great chance that I'm going to die here, today. It may take a while, especially if he's in enough control to play games, but I will not make it out alive. The chances are astronomically small, probably about as likely as it is that Amelie is my Mother, which is never going to happen, right?

"Sam, listen to me," I continue, trying to keep my voice low and steady as my back collides with something – a tree, I think. "You're not yourself. Myrnin didn't come and get you out of the grave, like he was meant to. You should be with _Amelie_ right now, loving her, not trying to kill me." as I talk, I realise that discussing killing probably isn't the best idea, what with this vampire's state of mind, but that's too late now, so I continue my discreet searching of my bag in an attempt to find a bloodbag. I could have _sworn_ I put some in this bag before…unless I set them down somewhere before I left the lab.

_Shit_.

I've come face to face with Sam, and I have nothing to fend him off. This is a definite bye-bye Claire moment, isn't it?

He's not facing me at the minute, something I'm thankful for, because that brief look into his once loving and peaceful eyes horrified me: there was nothing but a single mindedness for blood, something that made him violent and completely anti-human – a bit like that night in the Frat House, when he saved me from the boys. That makes it only _slightly_ ironic that he's trying to kill me now, with the same expression in his eyes. Well, not trying; he hasn't attempted to yet. And I know he'll win.

There's not one word that comes out of his mouth as he turns around to face me, and I find myself deliberately avoiding his eyes; they're the thing that make him seem the most inhuman. The rest of him, bar a layer of dust and grime, is the exact same, with no decay or _anything_ to indicate he's been in the ground for six months. He's just…_normal_. It makes it harder to accept that he's going to kill me, because if I had to be killed by a vampire, couldn't it be someone else? Anyone but Sam…anyone but the kind, sweet, gentle man who helped me, who saved the town before then perishing himself, just for it then to turn out that he _didn't_ die and that he's back.

He advances towards me. I've got nothing to throw but my bag, with all its useless contents of food and drink, and that would just get him angry and not leave me anything. If he doesn't kill me straight away, I could use the food and drink to stay strong until Myrnin comes to rescue me. He'll realise where I've gone; it's just wondering how long it will take for him to know I'm here that's the issue.

He's getting closer and closer, and I don't want his fangs in my neck, for me to see _his_ ginger hair as he tries to kill me. So I do the only thing I can think of.

I manage to make myself faint.

* * *

_Myrnin's POV:_

Given that Amelie has allowed me complete control of her army of vampires to find Claire, we should be able to make short work of this. Naturally, there are only so many hiding places, and though I worry sincerely that she will be dead by the time I find her, I cannot move any faster than I already am. In fact, Amelie has already called three times, amidst her pacing of her office, to inform me that I am far too highly strung to effectively find Claire.

To this, I merely hung the phone up, because any response I would normally have used involves Sam, and this wouldn't be the best idea, I don't believe, for we _– I –_ must still explain why he is running around Morganville, killing people. Something tells me that Amelie wouldn't take kindly to being paid a reminder of her lost love, especially because Claire has gone there to find _him_ – and if he kills my Claire…it doesn't bear me thinking about. I will merely have nothing to live for.

Paying no attention to the sunlight overhead, I run through the streets, sticking to the side ones as much as possible because they are preferable. Whilst it is easy enough to kill those in my path, I fear even _now_, that such actions would cause myself irreparable damage, and that Amelie would forbid me from leaving my laboratory for the rest of Morganville's existence. That shall not happen; I shall find Claire, I shall save Samuel from himself, and then Claire and I shall live happily ever after, for the rest of our lives. _This will happen!_ There cannot be any other alternative; I refuse to allow…to allow Sam to kill Claire.

Nearing the first stop on the list in my mind, I begin to get the feeling that Claire hasn't gone this way; if it wasn't for wanting to make _sure_ that she isn't here, I would have carried on in the direction her scent went in – but the possibilities about the age of the scent, whether she was kidnapped and many other things have me carrying on in the direction of the warehouses. Three locations are mine to locate, and mine alone, though I have been assured that 'back-up' to save Claire will be no more than thirty seconds away, incase she is with Sam. I hope to God that she isn't; my first prayer in hundreds of years is for _her_, for her to be safe and sound, with no physical ailments due to her being attacked by Sam.

Within seconds of entering the cool shade that delights me nought as much as it usually would do, I know for certain that she is not here. There has been no activity of _any_ kind here for months, with the entire street seeming deserted for almost as long, and it is obvious that Claire is not here. The only reports from the other locations around the town are confirming that she isn't there, and it worries me, to draw the conclusion that she has gone back to the graveyard, _alone_, because that is the most probable place of finding someone who has risen from the dead.

_That's it! _

Insanity threatens to rage within my mind, to render me unable to do anything – like Amelie said I would be – _because I know where she is! _She can't be anywhere else, she just can't…and, almost coincidentally, the graveyard is on my list of places to visit. I knew that she would come here at _some_ stage; she must have left the laboratory earlier than I thought, to be up here already.

She could have been here for an _hour!_ An entire hour with Sam…she will most certainly be dead. No blood was gone when I returned, the _stupid_ girl, and so the only blood available for him to take is _hers_. There is nothing else. She won't be able to fend him off, not for long.

Even as I think, my body is moving at breakneck speed, twisting and turning through the streets, no longer caring about keeping my speed hidden from the visitors to Morganville; Claire is more important than hiding the existence of vampires. Fall out from it will be down to Amelie and Oliver to deal with.

The only thing I'm responsible for waits for me in the graveyard.

_~x~_

Within three minutes, I am at the graveyard, and on the hunt for Sam and Claire. Thankfully, there are no funerals today to disrupt or distort my hearing; I am listening only for Claire, with no other human hearts to distract me. The size of this place is incomparable to anything else in Morganville, due to the fragility of the human life, particularly with vampires inhabiting the town, and it means that I cannot hear the entire way across the diameter. The area where Sam's grave is must be out of my hearing distance, it _must_, because I seem to be on the opposite end of the graveyard, with not even the noise of a bird to show that there is life here.

Either there's been an atomic bomb dropped and all life forms eradicated, or the animal life know that there's something up with Morganville. I hate to admit it, but even I will go for the latter.

Without realising I'm moving, I find myself leaping and twisting around graves, all senses alert to try and find Claire, to find Sam's grave, to find where I parked the car last _night_, because this graveyard is far too confusingly laid out. Copses of trees lie everywhere, and they all look identical, things which don't help me try to find the specific one through which one must walk to find Sam's grave. She could be anywhere in this entire graveyard, and she may already be dead, explaining why I cannot hear her heartbeat…

_Her scent!_

Joy fills me for a moment as I process what this means; she is here, in the graveyard, or she has been within the past ten to fifteen minutes. It cannot be that she has left just minutes before I arrived; if that is, then the world truly _is_ against me, because there is no way that this would have happened if not. If Claire isn't here, or…or if she is already _dead_, then fate will have played a game so vicious, so cruel, that the insanity shall rise from within and consume me, leaving me unfit for survival. Amelie will 'put me down' to release me from my suffering, and things will never be the same, all because I didn't reach her in time before Sam killed her. Life would be destroyed in Morganville, all because of my lack of saving her.

No rationality lines my thoughts as I rush towards where I think she is, because it's the path of the scent, and unless she walked back from Sam's grave along the exact same path as her original one, she hasn't gone any other way.

And then, it hits me; the sound of her heart beating.

_She's alive!_

Knowing that she is alive doesn't cause me to slow down – it actually has me finding reserves of strength I never knew I had, because the desperation to find her, to make sure that she's safe in this place, is greater than anything else. All motor actions are automatic as I don't care about anything but focusing on her exact location, in order to be able to find her and save her, if she's in danger.

Which, of course, she is. This is Claire Danvers, after all; when has there been a dangerous situation that she has _not_ been involved in?

Rage fills me as I round the corner to find her on the floor, her body slumped as though she is _dead_, and the redhaired vampire standing over her. She's alive, but I'm not sure by _how_ much, and _he's standing right there! _Sam Glass…trust Claire to have actually succeeded in finding him when I am not with her, and to not be armed with something to distract the vampire who needs blood to actually be able to survive a little longer.

He doesn't hear me approach, and I notice how he continues to walk closer and closer to Claire, not bothering to rush, and that's when I realise that he looks just like a vampire hunting. Samuel Glass has, through my actions, become everything he has strived not to be, and now he is about to continue this by killing Claire; even as I stand here, I can see he's close enough to grab her now, close enough for his fangs to be in her neck within seconds—

"Stop!" the word flies out of my mouth, yet thankfully lacks the desperate edge I feared would be within it; it merely sounds like an order, one from someone with power and authority, one that _must_ be obeyed. It works, because Sam turns around to look at me with a confused expression.

It's only then that Claire looks up, her head shooting upwards for our eyes to meet with an explosion of emotions: relief, fear, friendship and, above all, _love_. She's confused and scared, yet I can see that she loves me for rescuing her – or, at least, being here to rescue her.

"What do _you_ want?" Sam says, his voice lacking any emotion, or even sounding like he was before; I remember being as hungry as he is, the gnawing feeling that _has_ to be filled with blood, fresh human blood, and how it doesn't abate until blood is in your mouth, trickling down your throat…not until you've drained the human, and the taste festers in your mouth, and you realise that until you're quenched, there isn't a way that the hunger will go away.

"I want to help." My voice remains low and steady, yet with an air of authority to show that he cannot beat me. If he attacked, he would be on the floor within a second, no doubt about it, and I am sure that he is aware of this fact. "I want to assist you with your hunger, Sam, to help you get back to what you _are_. It's my fault you're like this, and I'm sorry for that. Yet I can help you. I can help with the feelings; they're horrible, are they not?" as I speak, I dial the number on the phone to alert Amelie and her guards to come here, that I have found Sam _and_ Claire and that assistance would be most likely the best option.

The grin that spreads out onto his face isn't that of Sam; it's that of a vampire, a killer, someone vicious and uncaring – it is my face, when the mood takes me. "And what makes you think that _you_ could help me, when I already have food?" he gestures back towards Claire, yet I have the feeling he cannot hear her gradual moving into a sitting position against the tree behind her. As so not to alert him to it, I merely give her one final look, trying to say _carry on_, and then look away, focusing back upon Sam.

"I know who you are, Sam, even if you aren't aware of it now, and you wouldn't be able to live with yourself if you killed her."

I reach into my pocket and draw out five blood pouches, all filled with the type of blood that entices vampires the most: the blood of diabetics when it is filled with excess glucose – sweeter and more enjoyable – and I know that he's enticed. There's a light that flickers on in his eyes that wasn't there before, when he was discussing Claire…he wants this blood almost as much as he wants to kill.

"All for you, Sam," I encourage him, watching from the corner of my eye as Claire shifts herself closer to me, planning on moving past Sam via his blind spot to the side. "You can drink all of it – and _more!_ There is so much for you, and it's for you alone."

I throw him a bag and he looks hesitant with it in his hands, the dilemma between choosing the kill and the easy feed evidently leaving him unable to make a decision. With encouragement from me, he begins to move it closer towards his mouth, the desire to feed greater than the desire for his property, Claire, to be allowed to live.

I see Claire moving slowly past Sam, hesitant to move too slowly so he'll notice her, but not wanting to move too fast incase his peripheral vision spots her; it's a wise speed, and yet I can see her desperation to be away, to get to me and be safe. There's a possibility that this will work.

Perhaps she could have gotten away, if it wasn't for the twig beneath her foot.

As soon as the noise is made, Sam drops the blood bag and flashes around to face Claire, the eye closest to me turning crimson red, his fangs sliding further down from his mouth. "_Escaping_, were we?" he murmurs, his tone the most threatening I could ever have imagined it to be.

In one second, everything flashes before my eyes. I see variations on what could happen if I attack him, if I merely jump in front of Claire to protect her, if I throw her to the ground, my body as her shield…every possibility runs through my mind, yet I come to no firm conclusion as to what to do, when Claire's eyes meet mine once again. Filled with fierce, wild, naked panic, the only thing I want to do is to save her, damning the consequences of any of my actions. All I care about is her safety, that she isn't harmed whatsoever, and this is the only thing that's on my mind as I move.

Simultaneously, one hand reaches backwards and pushes Claire to the ground, probably much harder than I intended, and the rest of my weight is propelled into Sam's chest, throwing him as far away from Claire as I can. As we move through the air, he tries to bite me, as well as throw me off, but he is far too weak to succeed, and only manages to alter our flight path. Before we reach the ground, I remove myself from his grasp and fly lightly to my feet, whilst..._ouch_, that must hurt him, with the angle his head crashed into the tree.

The redhead isn't moving, and so I take the chance to cast a furtive glance back at Claire, ensuring that she's safe; she isn't moving, but she's breathing normally, so perhaps I just knocked her unconscious, or perhaps she's playing dead. That's what she seems to be good at.

"You're not going to hurt her," I growl at Sam, even though he can't hear me, and rip open one of the bloodbags, having to force myself not to gulp it down myself. All the exertion and stress has left me nearing the hunger stage, yet it cannot be anything compared to Sam, and if it stops him attacking Claire…I will do anything. For this girl, I would die. I would rather _not_, but if it came down to me or her, I would perish, so long as the world still had Claire Danvers. That is the extent of my love.

Though he is unconscious, his throat still gulps the blood down as I force one, then two packets of blood down into his mouth, continuing this until all five packets – including the one he discarded –are within him. Claire still isn't moving, and when Sam has enough blood to match up how much he would have received from Claire in him, and after I've assured myself that he isn't going to wake up _yet_, I rush across to the girl lying on the ground. As I approach, I notice the tensing of her muscles, her eyelids remaining tightly shut, and the only thing my mind considers is that she thinks I'm Sam. She thinks I'm here to finish her off, to drain her, and she doesn't want to see her attacker.

"Claire," I whisper her name softly, urgency within my voice as I reach down to stand her on her feet. As soon as her name leaves my lips, her eyes shoot open, the panic subsiding within the cloudiness of the confusion in there; she's unable to understand where Sam is, I suppose. "Claire, you're _safe_ now. Do you understand?"

Her head moves in a slow nod, though I get the feeling that she doesn't know what she's doing, where she is, what's happening; it's almost enough for me to knock her out and wait for her to wake up, because her being as innocent as this is only making me want to reach out and kiss—

Suddenly, her lips are on mine, an explosion of heat and passion erupting as _she_ kisses_ me._ Her hands twist into my hair as she kisses me harder, and, after a moment or two of a complete lack of understanding, I'm kissing her back harder and more furiously than I would ever have imagined in my thoughts, because this is more than I ever imagined! Not only am I kissing her, but she kissed me _first_…and that is all that matters.

Somehow, we find ourselves becoming disengaged from one another, and I can hear both Sam stirring, and the cavalry arriving. Neither of us speak as I move to greet Amelie, the sun already dropping furiously quickly in the sky, and within seconds, she is appearing over the crest of the hill, a golden angel flanked by what seems to be hundreds of fighters.

Her eyes rake the ground desperately for Sam, a need for him evident in her face, until I know she spies his stirring body on the ground, a good hundred metres away from her. She is aware he is alive, and yet as soon as her eyes latch onto him, it seems as if the rest of the world melts away; we are not here.

"Certainly an _interesting_ way of solving an issue, Myrnin." Her voice is distant, even as she passes me by on her way to Sam, her guards following with further blood to ensure that he doesn't kill again.

"I do my best."

There's no response to this, not from anyone.

* * *

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& I'd really appreciate it if you all reviewed this chapter as well.

-Vicky xx


	14. Explanation

Chapter 14

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_Claire's POV:_

I…I don't know what's going on.

Well, of course I _do_, because I've not been hit over the head (I don't think) and nobody has addled with my memories to the best of my knowledge, but I don't get what's been going on. Sam's…Sam's back, and he tried to kill me, but he managed to stop himself – whether that was a conscious decision from him, or just a vampiric one that desired him to play with his food some more, I don't know – and then…then _Myrnin_ arrived to save me.

I probably should have expected that, but it really was a shock, the way that he attacked Sam, someone who could get _him_ out of any trouble he was in with Amelie whatsoever, and then rushed to my aid. And so I kissed him. It wasn't a conscious decision – in fact, I still don't know why I did it – but I did it…and it felt far too good. It wasn't a "I'm so grateful that you've saved me" sort of kiss, but one that had me feeling as though an electric current was racing through me, one that made me think that _Myrnin_ and I are perfect for one another…

…it was a kiss that made me, just for a minute, regret having a boyfriend, because then I could have been with Myrnin forever.

Just out of the corner of my eye, I can see Amelie approaching Sam, and I want to turn and look at their reunion after six months of him being in the ground, presumed dead, but I don't at the same time; it's _their_ reunion, after all, and I don't want to pry on it, particularly as Amelie's involved. You never know what she's going to do…and, though I don't want to admit it, I'm still scared of Sam. I know it's illogical, since I _knew_ that he would be like that and I went looking for him…but to think that _Sam_ could have killed me so quickly – it doesn't seem right. Sam isn't the sort of person who kills humans, and the idea that he's killed nine has been abstract, up until now. Only now is it making sense to me that _he killed those people!_ And, more than that, if Myrnin hadn't saved me, I would have been killed as well.

Quickly turning away from Amelie and Sam, my eyes find Myrnin standing before me, his own eyes on the couple quite far away from us – but it's almost no distance at all for a vampire's sight, is it? Personally, I can barely see over there, the outlines of Sam and Amelie barely more defined than that…but _Myrnin_ can see.

"What…what's going on?" I whisper, hoping that Amelie is far too focused on Sam to be concerned with my requesting of Myrnin to inform me what she's doing – as that means both Myrnin and I are paying them the compliment of our full attention. Hopefully, she'll be too absorbed in Sam and the fact that he is, you know, _alive_, to be bothered that we're listening to the conversation…or, rather, Myrnin is and I'm going to listen to whatever he tells me.

"She's giving him blood," Myrnin tells me, shifting his position very slightly in order to make it more natural, for him to be glancing in their direction from his peripheral field of sight. "Not only human blood, but also _her_ blood, so that he heals faster, as well as other…_positives_ for the pair of them." The awkwardness of his tone, plus his lack of elaboration speaks words: I don't want to be thinking about that.

"Um…ok…" I wait for there to be a flurry of movement from where Amelie and Sam sit, but there's a long pause where nothing seems to be changing. And all this silence – because Amelie's guards are well trained to be silent, even when they ought to be worried that their leader is with the causation of so many human deaths – just has the consequence of me remembering back to my own actions of a few minutes ago, when I kissed Myrnin.

Again.

It's as though I can't get it out of my head, as though _that kiss_ is going to be the thing that I antagonise over for the rest of my life. I guess that it wouldn't be so bad if I didn't feel anything when it happened – but I had. And I can still feel the shivers running down my back whenever my mind thinks back to when my lips were on Myrnin's, and I get the feeling that there's a blush in my cheeks, and I don't _understand_ why this is. Shane and I, no matter our differences of late (particularly down to Amelie's decisions) have always been relatively strong, and we're going to stay that way, I'm sure of it. Shane and I are meant to be together…so why can I not think of anything other than the beauty of Myrnin's kiss, and the way that I _still_ want more?

"She's waiting for him to wake up," Myrnin murmurs, so quietly that I can barely hear him, and I'm guessing that the other vampires will have difficultly as well. "From the movement of her lips, I'm presuming that she's telling him that she's there with him and that she loves him, though please do not quote me on this at a later time. I have never excelled in lip reading, after all, and I could just be making this up, as if _I_ were in Amelie's situation, and what I would…" he cuts off suddenly, as though he doesn't want to be telling me this, and the strangest feeling runs through me that he's discussing _me_. He's referring to if I were Sam, and he was Amelie, and that he would be telling me that he loves me…

What is happening to the world? What is happening to the way that I understand things to be: me and Shane, Myrnin and science, me and Myrnin to work together, Amelie and Sam and then Amelie and Oliver; why is everything changing? No longer does everything seem to just _click_ together – I'm having to work harder and harder to fit the jigsaw puzzle pieces together, trying desperately to make them lock together and to hang onto the remnants of my old life, because I don't get how things are changing. Or, I do, but I don't want to accept them, and to realise that there will (that there _is_) consequences from the way that it's adjusting to be something completely different.

Nothing makes sense anymore!

"Uh, ok, then," I reply, realising that the silence between us is growing more and more awkward by the second. Mainly because of his comment and the way that he trailed off, but it _could_ have just been him speaking his thoughts aloud, and _I_ have taken it to be completely the wrong thing, reading into things far too deeply. It's happened before, with Shane, and I don't ever want it to happen again, especially when I don't even know what I'm doing with my life. All I know is that Shane and I are over, mainly due to him being a prick about Myrnin and the ball, and that I've just kissed my boss, something I'm sure isn't in the employee handbook.

Myrnin doesn't offer any further conversation, even in regards to Sam and Amelie, and so I try to strain my eyes in order to see the pair, knowing that it's far too intrusive to their relationship, but not particularly caring. I can just about see Amelie holding Sam in her arms, but nothing further, and if I wanted to know anything else, I know I can just ask Myrnin…but…but it seems too personal a thing to be discussing with him. Due to the connotations of his earlier words, I don't want to discuss _anything_ like this because…because I don't know what I want, what I'm doing, _why_ I feel so confused.

"Well, well, well," I hear a voice behind me that makes me instantly want to groan and bang my head against a wall: Oliver. "What have we here?"

It only takes a few seconds – a few seconds longer than Myrnin, probably, but only a few seconds – before I understand that _Oliver is here_. Oliver is here, and he and Amelie have just had their whole 'I think I love you, let's have a ball' thing, and now Sam is back.

I think he always knew that Sam meant – _means_ – more to Amelie than he does…but there is a difference between irrevocably loving someone who is dead, and someone who is alive, and this basically means that the end of the road for Oliver and Amelie is pretty much here. There is no way that Amelie could ever live with Oliver when there's a chance to be with Sam – though I have a feeling Myrnin will have some explaining to do – and so it seems that the end result here will be a happy Sam and Amelie, and an Oliver who will either go and destroy the entire town, or destroy himself.

Or, you know, both.

"Here, we have a wide assortment of graves, Oliver." Myrnin, of course, is sarcastic with his response, turning his attention away from Amelie towards Oliver, his expression slightly _too_ twisted. Even I feel a little pain for Oliver and the way that everything's changing for him…then again, there _was_ that altercation at the ball between the two egoistical male vampires, and probably about five billion of those happening before, so I'm not sure if I should be surprised or not that there's no sympathy from Myrnin. "I'm not sure if you're familiar with them, given that you did not indeed _die_, but they are where humans bury their dead. The headstones are quite pretty little things; I'm amazed you didn't order them all removed in your reign of tyranny in England," he continues, that glint even more prominent in his eyes.

It's all I can do not to laugh, because this is a _serious_ situation – serious covers it when the entire area around us is being filled with Amelie's guards, and whoever it is who…_is that a helicopter?_ – and Oliver mad isn't the best idea for my continuation of living my good, albeit very complex, life. And believe me, I spend enough time with vampires to know that mad vampires don't make for increasing life expectancy.

Oliver growls, his eyes focused on the gap between Myrnin and the couple in the background, as so he can look at the two scenes simultaneously, I think, and it's as though I don't exist. "I know _quite_ well where we are; must you always play the fool?" he retorts, continuing quickly when it becomes obvious Myrnin is preparing to answer. "Oh, don't answer that! My question was focused more on…why oh _earth_ is there a dead vampire roaming around, _alive_?" Oliver is confused, with good reason, but he certainly doesn't deserve Myrnin's shoot-down.

"Amelie decided that she had _quite_ enough of your bad-temper, rude habits and smelly breath, so faked a robbing of Sam's grave to show that she still loved him, and then proceeded to put every single penny she had into bringing him back to life – something, incidentally, which used your bank balance also," he replies, far too cheerfully, wrapping his arm around Oliver's neck. I can sense the older appearing vampire to tense, and know that Myrnin's insults aren't being taken well.

More than the anger that builds in his face, I can see hurt; it probably isn't a good sign to be this close to a vampire when you can see emotions like this – turning and running would be a good idea, if I didn't still feel a bit woozy and confused – but I can, and I can't help but feel sorry for Oliver. Myrnin's being a prick for no reason, even I can see that through whatever rose-tinted glasses I seem to be wearing right now, but it still doesn't make me want to go and offer Oliver counselling sessions; I've just almost been killed by the (one time) friendliest vampire I know. I deserve the right to be confused and to attribute any lack of reaction (or, more to the point, the _kiss_) to that.

"I don't…" Oliver begins, but cuts himself off, his face hardening. In the distance, I can see Amelie's head shooting up, her eyes focused on our group of three, and though I'm not sure what her facial expression is, something from Myrnin's murmured description, of which I miss over half, is that she's sad…but also content, with Sam. So she won't be running back over here to Oliver and deciding whether or not to have an affair with him, because she loves Sam the most. "I…I will see you later, when you explain to me what is going on." an order from Oliver, it seems, and Myrnin even manages to take it semi-seriously, restraining himself from mocking Oliver.

Somehow, I find myself slightly closer to Myrnin as Oliver moves away, back in the direction he came in – short visit – and I'm about to speak when Oliver turns back around. There's now something manic in his eyes, something that scares me because I've only ever seen it when he's been fighting, and I'm half afraid he's about to test whether or not Myrnin will protect me, when his mouth opens.

"And just what _is_ there between the two of you, little Claire Danvers?" his addressing of the question to me leaves me shell-shocked, a blush rising in my cheeks because _what does this look like?_ Does it look like I'm hooking up with Myrnin, just because he's the only vampire I feel at least partially safe around, or is he just messing with my head because—

"It was just a _kiss_, alright? It was nothing serious, nothing…_urgh_, why does it even matter?" I find myself blurting out, blushing even more so as I say it. Oliver's eyebrows merely rise slightly, and his gaze focuses on Myrnin, something I can't even contemplate reading; I don't dare to look at either of them, instead turning around to see that the dearly beloved _Ice Queen_ has gone back to tending to Sam, speaking with some aid who has dared to approach her, because we're not interesting enough for her.

I turn around and my eyes catch something that doesn't seem in the right place, though it takes a few minutes for my beginning-to-breakdown brain to understand it, and process through a suitable reaction to what I've just seen.

Oh fuck.

Michael's over there, on top of the hill, near to Oliver. And he's evidently heard every word, because there's an expression on his face that reminds me of when someone is about to murder someone; he looks positively murderous, one hundred percent vampiric, and positively Shane's best friend, from the way that he's looking at Myrnin and the gap between me and my vampire boss.

"I can explain?" I offer weakly, but Michael doesn't seem to care, his eyes locking onto the figure behind me, the one with the copper hair. He tears his gaze away from there to level me off again, and this time, I can see anger, confusion, and disbelief. "Oh, I can explain that, too…well, _he_ can." I point at Myrnin, wiping away any smile on my face.

We've both got a _lot_ of explaining to do.

Michael doesn't speak as he flurries down the hill – at least, I presume he does that, given that he's standing on top of it one second and then by my side the next. His body position is so that he's facing me, but I can see that his face is in the direction of Sam and Amelie, his eyes narrowed – to try and see the couple more closely, maybe? Maybe so that Michael can see his Grandfather slightly more clearly, after six months of thinking he was dead? "How?" he whispers, his voice quieter than anything I've ever heard before, a mixture of anger and confusion.

"Long story, but basically Myrnin did something and forgot to tell someone about it," I say, avoiding the question basically, because I don't want to be telling Michael before Amelie finds out. Now, all I want to do is leave, but I'm sure that I'll need _some_ sort of permission, because my movements in Morganville always seem to be threatening my life – and normally, the movements are controlled by the vampires, so I'm thinking that they're sending me a subtle message. Well, not so subtle, given what vampires do to humans, but that's besides the point, and it's hurting my head to think of it.

"I want to know, Claire. He's my _grandfather!"_ Michael snaps, and I recoil slightly at the venom in his voice. His face turns to look at me directly in the face, and I can see the redness of his eyes, the strange glint to them that marks him out as a vampire and fear overtakes any other emotion. Never has Michael been like this with _me_, and it's more than a little scary.

"And Amelie is his…well, for want of a better word for this is most certainly _not_ the perfect description of her, girlfriend…no, perhaps eternal partner would be better," Myrnin cuts in for me, before starting to babble on about what Amelie is to Sam. "Anyway, back to my point," Wow, this is weird; Myrnin is going back on topic _himself,_ "I believe that Amelie, as the Founder and having such a strong connection to the ginger-haired man, has the right to know the specifics first. And even if you don't, well, I don't particularly care."

The only piece of information I glean from this is that Myrnin has decided to not call Sam by his name, and refer to him as his hair colour. This would be interesting, besides for the fact that both Michael and Amelie are blonde, Shane and I are brunette (though he's blonder than I am) and…I get the feeling that there'd be widespread confusion, when Oliver was desired.

Michael's eyes suddenly focus on me again, and there's something in them that I don't want to read, because it has me wanting to spill out everything I've ever felt for Shane, and also for Myrnin…and possibly even those ridiculous crushes, like on _him_ and also, weirdly, even on Richard Morrell, but that's besides the point. What I need to be doing _now_ is…is going home and explaining to Michael on the way that it was just a kiss that happened because Myrnin saved me from something, and…and, basically, I'm screwed.

"Michael, are we going home?" I ask him, breaking the silence, and looking away from him so that he can't do any mind-control things. Not that I think Myrnin would let him, but you never know with my boss; he can be crazily cool one minute, then be your worst enemy the next. "Because I really want to—"

"No," he cuts me off mid-sentence, his eyes flashing once again. "I'm not going home with you. Not…not after you _kissed_ him! Don't think you can pretend with me, Claire; I saw the way that you were with him at the ball."

"I do always find it interesting the way that people discuss me as if I'm not even here," Myrnin comments reproachfully, and I shoot him an angered look.

"Shut up, Myrnin," I order him, and he holds his hands up, smiling even though I don't think that the situation calls for it. "And Michael, you know _nothing_, alright? Literally, you don't know anything that's gone on! So if you're not going to talk to me, just go home. I'll call you when we can tell you what's going on, alright?" realising how bitchy I'm being, I try to level my tone off by the end, but I can tell he's had it, given that he turns on his heel and runs up the hill within mere seconds of my last word.

"That went rather well," Myrnin comments needlessly, and I just flip him off, not even bothering to tell him to shut up. "Well, it looks as though Amelie and Sam are moving off towards that shining…_she is using my portals!_" he sounds positively outraged, and the shock of his attention being so firmly drawn to this has me laughing, because he's so serious about being mad! It's actually the best thing that's happened in weeks, and I find myself half sinking to the floor with the reverberations of laughter through my body.

"Go tell her not to use them, then," I suggest, knowing what'll happen if he does.

"I may…"

"No, you won't," I tell him, "because you know you'd either be dead within a minute, or ordered to work with Oliver for the rest of your life. So don't do it. I'm sure that Amelie commands the portals as well, so…"

At this point, I can see Amelie's head shooting in our direction, and there's a smile on her lips that I've never seen before; Sam is in her arms, and though she's only looking at us for a second or two, I can see the love and adoration for the man in her arms. As well as a touch of humour because of our conversation—wait, did I just use the words _Amelie_ and _humour_ in the same sentence, and not implying that she's lacking humour?

Is the world right here?

"So, what do you want to do, little Claire?" Myrnin reminds me of his presence and I shiver, remembering just what Michael said, and so guessing how Shane will react.

"I want to go back to the lab and work on something to help Sam to integrate to society easier, or something, I don't care, I just want to work," I decide, fighting through fatigue because if I slept now? The nightmares would attack, and I don't feel strong enough for that. "Don't try and fight me, Myrnin. I don't want to talk."

And as we walk towards the portal that lingers, he doesn't even question my orders. This world definitely _is_ different.

* * *

I'm sorry for not updating for a while; every time I was going to, I was either RPing, at a party, doing work experience, or ill, so.

Please don't favourite or alert without reviewing, thank you.

ten reviews for an update.


	15. Experiments

_Chapter 15:_

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_Myrnin's POV:_

She's confused, and she has good right to be; things have been very traumatic for my little Claire in these past few hours, going from searching for Sam, to then being captured by him, to then my saving her, for her then to kiss me – a fact that was then discovered by her housemate. Adding into the equation the fact that Amelie will want her presence alongside mine when we are forced to explain about how Sam is suddenly 'back from the dead', then one can without a _doubt_, understand why she isn't sure what she's doing.

As soon as we enter the laboratory, she instantly makes for the small kitchen area, where she pours a glass of water from the bottles in the fridge – the one _completely_ safe source of drinking water, for I fear I may have contaminated the running water with large deposits of lead – and begins to eat one of the bars on the side with high glucose content. Simultaneously, I move towards the work bench which contains most of the work I did when Claire was asleep, for Sam.

I require a blood sample from him as soon as possible – by now, the antigens in his body will have broken down the donor blood to make it his – to see whether or not it is depleting quicker than an average vampire. Blood is broken down in our bodies at a varying rate, dependent on physical exertion and age, and so he would need more blood than say, Amelie, anyway…but the ordeal his body has been put through, it could cause him to need blood faster than normal.

"What are you doing?" Claire says – or, I _think_ she says, for she speaks with her mouth full, as most teenagers seem to do nowadays.

"If you would care to speak to me with your mouth _empty_, it would be much appreciated." I find myself snapping at her, and instantly regret it; I don't understand why I did that, for when one feels something for someone as I feel for Claire, it isn't wise to then yell at them, is it? "I am trying to think about what could be done to prevent Sam's body breaking down the blood so quickly," I continue almost instantly, hoping that she doesn't linger on the fact that I snapped. The stress of the past thirty hours or so has caused me to be this way, I fear, and blood must be consumed by myself shortly, otherwise there is the possibility that I could lash out at Claire.

Thankfully, for a change, Claire doesn't begin to argue about my attitude towards her; instead, she takes steps forwards and approaches the same bench as myself from a different angle. "So, you want to change the make up of his blood somehow?" she considers, yet I shake my head.

"No, no, that would be far too dangerous – and it would be extremely complicated," I reply, the plausible outcome of this running through my head. "Changing the blood would have an adverse effect on both Sam's mental and physical health, and it could even cause a new mutation of the Bishop disease. No, this must be a chemical akin to an antibody, I suppose, something that hinders the progression of something. It must not _stop_ the breaking down of the blood, merely slow it down for a short period of time, until his body regulates itself once more."

She frowns, something I can tell through the movement of the air rather than actually seeing her expression, and then continues. "So you're saying he's effectively a new vampire again?"

"That is correct, my dear, yes," I reply, amazed that she managed to conclude this so quickly.

"But Michael wasn't like that when he was turned," she argues – ah, I should have known that it would be too easy for her to agree with me right the way through. "So maybe it's because of something else that he's like this, not because of him being brought back from his state of being comatose."

She's arguing with me, and it takes all of my efforts to not lose my temper with her; she should know by now that I don't take kindly to her opposing my ideas and theories – true, she has been correct in the past, but in a scenario where neither of us have the greater knowledge, she should hold her tongue. Feelings do not come into the equation when science is at stake, along with the fact that it is the Founder's lover who we are discussing, not just some hapless idiot.

"We do this _my_ way, Claire," I retort, not even bothering to turn to face her as I begin to move a thick sheaf of paper to one side, my eyes scanning each piece to find the one I'm looking for: it contains information about Sam, information that has been stored since his birth and has been updated since. I find it after a few more moments, reading through the average amount of blood he had in a week, along with an average on how much exercise he did in any given week, and beginning the calculations on how quickly the blood is broken down.

"Fine, ignore me then!" Claire says, her tone sounding frustrated, and I turn to look at her as I realise that I have blocked everything in reality out, for a moment or two, whilst working out the sums.

"I am quite afraid that I did not hear you then, Claire; would you please repeat what you said?" I am much politer than normal as I respond, for I have been rude to her earlier and that isn't how you treat the people you love. "Also, for I am in a rather…_good_ mood, if my plan does not work – which I sincerely doubt it will not be the case – you may tell me that you told me so. That is all."

She smiles ever so slightly, and it really does bring out the beautiful shape of her eyes, and the colouring of them, taking my unnecessary breath away. It isn't just for her brains that I think I love her, nor for her body, but for the combination of skills she has, and her personality—I have never used such words to describe my feelings for another being before, for I am generally much less decisive with my thoughts, yet I cannot help but feel that my life would be extremely different without Claire, and that these differences wouldn't be good. I have lived a life without Claire, and yet now I couldn't do it; she must be mine, and soon, for it grows more and more torturous for us not to be together. Especially now she has kissed me, because I know now she feels what I feel for her – she just may not yet be aware of it.

"Believe me, I'll be making sure I get to do that," she replies, and steps up to the table beside me to look at some of the discarded pieces of paper. It would be helpful if she was caught up on the information I have already gleaned, yet my attention is distracted from the work when she speaks again. "Myrnin, about earlier…"

Silence reigns as I turn to face her, my eyes gazing into her own, and wait for her to continue. Something about her tone suggests something to me that I most certainly do not want to accept, because it makes me think in the deepest depths of my mind that she'll ask me to act as though it never happened. She'll want me to go back to the way we were before, when I was nothing more than her eccentric boss who felt that he loved her, but I _won't_ _do it!_ Something that today has proven to me is that I must act when I feel something, rather than bottling it up as I once have, for I almost lost her. _Not_ that I would expect this girl to understand, given that she pays no attention to her own safety and seems entirely obtuse to the fact that I am a better partner for her than her current beau.

"What do you want to say to me, Claire?" I ask her in an emotionless voice, for these deep suspicions shall be true, shan't they? I would never have considered them if they were not –and I am always right, am I not? Everything I have ever worked for, particularly within this town, has been achieved, and nothing I have ever concluded has been wrong: I am right. And, not for the first time in my life with regards to Claire, I want to be _wrong_, to be proven that she doesn't want to forget what we did, because that would mean that we would have a chance at happiness. Life has grown mundane, with just science, and Claire has brightened things up – she is required in my life for me to feel as though I have a future.

"I wanted to ask you if you would mind…acting as though I…as though I didn't…" she trails off, though I know exactly what she means – I was correct in my presumptions. She wants me to do something I most certainly do not want to do.

She wants me to forget that I have feelings for her.

"You want me to act as though you did not kiss me," I reply flatly, continuing to stare at her. _Come on, Claire, see what I know is evident to you,_ I think, trying to channel as much of the desire for her to realise what I know she knows into my eyes, so she can see it even more clearly.

"Well, yeah," she replies awkwardly, her cheeks colouring with blood that I find myself desiring – if I cannot have her, then nobody can. This isn't something I ought to be thinking, it most certainly isn't, because killing Claire would help nobody. All it would do would mean that I would die alongside her, and that was never part of the plan, most certainly not.

"Have you noticed something about today, Claire?" I turn away from her suddenly and stalk towards the bookcase in the far corner of the room. One hand rests on the side of a book, my forefinger running down its leather spine. "And the way that, once again, you have ran off into a dangerous situation without even _thinking_ about the plausible consequences, and then being captured by the person who has wreaked so much havoc in the past few days?"

"Only because _you_ forgot about him," she mutters, but it doesn't add the touch of humour to the situation that her words normally would; I'm angry, and her attempts to calm me down won't work. Nothing will work…nothing besides the one thing I desire so dearly.

"You could have died, and you ran off there without considering what could happen," I repeat, turning back to face her with anger on my face – I'm sure of it, though I'm as certain that it is human anger, not the vampire equivalent. "And, once again, _I_ had to clean up _your_ mess. As per usual, I was forced to find you, before you became Sam's next meal, but it isn't the first time, is it? You head into dangerous situations and don't even consider the way that things could turn out, and merely drag others alongside you, not even caring about their lives—" I could continue, but she cuts me off, her own expression suddenly changing to one of anger.

"What are you trying to say, Myrnin?" she snaps. "Are you saying that I don't care about my friends, about _you_, or anyone else, just to try and do something? Because if you are, then you don't know me at all, do you?"

"I know you better than you think I do," I retort sharply, digging my nails into the binding of the book rather than allowing myself to take my anger out on the breakable human in the room. "Let me _assure_ you, Claire, that not once have you shown the slightest consideration for your life, or anyone else's, for that matter, when dashing off to do something dangerous."

She stalks towards me, something that humans don't normally do to a vampire, and I can see that she is shaking with rage. "And why do you _care_ about whether or not I value my life?" she whispers, her voice filled with anger. "Are you trying to say that you give a _damn_ about whether I live or die, or is this just another mind game? You're deranged, Myrnin, because all I've _ever_ done is try and help you; you were dying and crazy, yet I stayed to help you."

I can't help myself now; the anger is too great to remain contained inside of me. Almost without realising, the book half within my grasp is across the room, slamming into the far wall and splitting down the spine; another follows in quick succession as I try and control my anger without success – how _dare_ she insinuate that I don't care whether she dies!

"All I have done since I met you is try and _save_ you!" I find myself yelling at her, turning around to face her once more, balling my hands into fists to prevent myself throttling her. "You would not be _alive_ if it were not for me; none of you would be! I care for you, Claire, and you…you try and say that I am a vampire through and through, with no humanity remaining in me, when I am the reason you continue to breathe! How _dare_ you?"

"_You're_ the one who almost killed me however many times, Myrnin not Amelie or—anyone else!"

"You're wrong!" I bellow back, feeling my eyes and vision turn crimson. "People wanted you dead, Bishop did, Amelie did, and did you die? _No_! Because _I_ interjected, I used reasons and excuses that evidently have no truth behind them whatsoever, and that's why you're standing here. Not because you're special at hunting down the enemy, but because of _me_."

She looks shocked, the anger sinking out of her for a moment, leaving her deflated. "Why?" she asks, stopping three or four metres away from me. "Why would you do something like that, risking—?"

"Because…because…" I cannot say it. I cannot say that I love her, because where would that leave me when she tries to leave, or tries to tell me that it means as little as the kiss in the graveyard? I don't think I can cope with that once again. She can't hurt me like that. "Things that you wouldn't understand, for you are so _obtuse_ to anyone's feelings besides your own, are you, or are you not?"

"How dare _you!"_ she shoots back, the anger returning in blazing glory to her eyes. "You care about nothing but science and yourself and, and—" she's yelling now, yelling louder than I've ever heard her speak before, but I don't focus on this as I find myself speaking.

"And _you_!" I shout back. "_You_ are someone I care about; that's why I find you and save you, because I cannot live this life without you—"

This time, she cuts _me_ off, striding forwards those final few metres to press her lips to mine, once again the kiss being initiated by her. Unlike the first, this one is more passion filled, a mutual anger blazing as I kiss her back harder than she probably is used to, all my attempts to be gentle lost in the inferno that is my brain and emotions, for _she_ has caused this. She has made me this…

Her touch is tantalising as she kisses me as hard as she can, a soft moan leaving her lips as my arms wrap around her, pulling her closer to me. Feelings that ought to be impossible in a man as dead as I are roused as she whispers things against my lips, and it almost seems as though I am human, with the electrical impulses that are racing through me at her touch.

"Well, this is _certainly_ interesting work," a voice comes from across the room, though it takes us both a few moments to realise that there is another being present, kissing Claire being far more important to me than this intruder. She is everything to me, and she is here, kissing me…I cannot put into words how confused my vampire senses are, given that I was shouting at her mere seconds before.

Wait, that voice.

Oliver.

What in science's good name could _he_ want?

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	16. Alone

_Chapter 16:_

_I don't own anything, once again_

Winner of the oneshot thing: jjrw1998 - review with the scenario/pairing you desire, and I'll write it for you.

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Claire's POV:

What have I _done?_

I…somehow, inbetween arguing with Myrnin that he's done nothing for my survival in Morganville, and his insisting that I would be dead without his interference, I seem to have given in to the same feelings I succumbed to in the graveyard, because my lips were on his, his arms around me, and things felt very, _very_ right. They felt too right; his arms, though his grip was slightly too tight due to his anger, felt much more natural to my body, save for their lack of warmth, and I was certain that I wouldn't have stopped if we hadn't been interrupted.

That's wrong, isn't it? I'm in a relationship with someone who is apparently my soul mate, and now I'm at work, snogging my boss senseless—a _vampire_ boss, no less, one who looked as though he would have destroyed me easier than he did those books he flung into the far wall. And none of that stopped me kissing him. I wanted him to continue, to go further, for the passion to flare its flame longer…and we would have done, if Oliver hadn't entered. It's strange to consider Oliver your saving grace, but in this situation, he is.

It takes a few seconds between his arrival and the action, yet I soon find myself springing away from Myrnin, avoiding eye contact with either vampire. As I move, I realise that there are sensitive spots on my arms, where Myrnin has grabbed me, and I just know that they're going to bruise: just _great_, isn't it? My actions aren't even able to be confined to memory; until the bruises fade, I most certainly can't even push it out of my mind.

"Either you're here to try and aid me in getting Amelie to build me a new, higher-class laboratory on the other side of town because you want to stink this one out to a new level, or you have a message for us; which one is it, Oliver?" Myrnin is far more brazen than I would expect him to be, given what we were doing, and he is openly mocking Oliver…something which is never a good idea.

I hear Oliver growl and am immediately glad that I'm on the opposite side of the laboratory, because he sounds angry. To try and avoid the attention being on me, I try and pretend that I'm reading one of the pieces of paper on the table in front of me, but it's pointless; they both know I'm here, and my cheeks are flushed so red that it's almost making my vision red, when I look at the bottom of the piece of paper.

"Amelie wanted to see how your, ah, _experiment_ is getting along," is what Oliver says in response, his voice taking on a strange twist when he says 'experiment', and I risk a peek in his direction to see that he's smiling, it being bitter and twisted.

"You're saying that our dear Founder took time out from attending to Sam, in order to meet and speak with _you_?" Myrnin sounds incredulous, yet I know that he's being sarcastic. "I must certainly ensure that she has her priorities in order in the future, for certain."

Oliver merely holds up his phone, and as he does, his body turns to almost be facing me; it's at this point that I decide it's more prudent to pretend to be reading this page most studiously, ensuring that my eyes move as I read.

"She rang me, not that it particularly makes a difference, does it?" Oliver replies, before continuing, "and I believe that she shall not be particularly pleased to learn of your…lack of _progress_ shall we call it. Unless, of course, your theory with regards to whatever you are supposed to be doing involves engaging in romantic liaisons, _obviously_."

I half expect Myrnin to punch him, but he doesn't; all he does is go very, very quiet, and if I was looking, I bet he would be giving Oliver one of his death stares. "Get. Out," he articulates very clearly when the silence is almost getting too much for me. "If Amelie desires to speak with me, or to discuss anything that has…_happened_, she can contact me herself, do you understand? If you ever set foot in my laboratory again, I will have you hanged." This is the threatening Myrnin I once knew, and still see glimmers of every now and then, and if this was being directed at me, I would be in pieces right now.

Thankfully, it isn't, and I turn and focus my attention on the two vampires, noticing their 'stare-down' which lasts another five seconds. Then, Oliver's gaze turns to focus on me, his eyes locking into mine for just a second or two—but it's enough to make me shudder. Something in his eyes seems broken, as though he's lost whatever it was that was keeping him bound together (I want to say Amelie…but Oliver wouldn't be dependent on a woman whom he tried to kill…I'm sure) and that could make him very dangerous indeed.

And then he's gone, turning on his heel and walking through the portal without a word, leaving the laboratory in silence. It's only then do I realise that I relished his company, because then I wouldn't have to have the inevitable conversation that shall now come up between Myrnin and myself: why we kissed originally, and why I just kissed him again _now_, when I spent however long telling him that he's a bad man and that I only value him as a friend. _Way_ to go Claire, sending mixed signals as clear as ditchwater!

"Don't," I mutter before Myrnin even has chance to open his mouth; I know what he'll say, so why let him say it? "I don't want to talk about it, and you can make me stay and talk, but I won't. So let me go home and sleep, and work things out with Michael and Shane—my _boyfriend_—and then we can work on Sam's blood." I don't leave room for him to argue; my emphasis of the word 'boyfriend' is deliberate, and I notice Myrnin wincing slightly as I speak.

Surprisingly, he stands aside to allow me through the portal without one word of protest. Only when I'm through, standing in the middle of the Glass House living room, and about to shut the door, do I hear him say, "you'll be back, Claire, and soon; I know you will. We're too alike, you see."

I pretend not to hear him.

Now it's time to sort out the rest of my life, and somehow conceal that I've kissed Myrnin _again_…which may be an issue.

_~x~_

I walk through the portal, back into the Glass House, and think: just where will everyone be? It's about midday, according to my phone, so Michael should be inside, as should Shane because he doesn't work on Mondays; I'm not sure about Eve, since things have been going on so she may be home – maybe not, though.

I most certainly don't expect to see the three of them waiting for me on the sofa in the living room, looking like I'm turning up to death by firing squad.

As I make my presence more apparent, the three of them turn to face me, nobody's face looking as though they may feel a _little_ happiness at the fact I haven't perished along the way between the Founder's ball and now. This is just great, truly.

"Hi!" I say, wincing at the tone of my voice; it's far too high-pitched and happy. All it does is make it sound as though I'm trying to hide something – which I am, though they don't need to know that – and it seems to almost confirm something that the three of them are thinking; I see a glance being passed between them, and understand that I'm no longer part of knowing what's going on. No, now it's me on trial, not the usual idiot like Monica or a vampire, and I'm blocked out.

"Are you alright?" Michael asks, though it's a more perfunctory question than one that indicates he particularly cares.

"Fine, I was just tired and we've – _I've_ – finished what needs doing for now, so until Amelie sends a summons, I'm free," I say, changing we to I in an attempt to alleviate my conscience; if I mention we, I remember what I just did with Myrnin _again_, and that isn't something that ought to be blurted out between the four of us. This is especially true given what Michael knows – and has probably passed on – and it certainly wouldn't make me look any better, given how far I would have probably taken things with Myrnin.

"So you finally decided to come home," Shane shoots in my direction, and I jerk backwards from the venom in his voice, fearful almost that it could come out and attack me. He's angry with me; I guess I knew that, but it's different to see it in person. We've never had a 'proper' argument before – they've always only been about things to do with the television, or when pushing it, my working for Amelie and Myrnin – and I guess it's scary for me to think that this could be the first time we truly see the other for what they are; people say that the only time you can understand love is in an argument, apparently…and what the argument's about. Something tells me that this could be Shane & Claire coming unstuck.

"Yes, I just said that the work's finished," I reply, my voice tired as I take a step closer to the stairs – and away from the sofa. Unfortunately, something in all six eyes I look into makes me take that step closer to them again – they're not letting me go just yet. "And now I'm home to shower and go to bed, because truly, I'm knackered."

"Didn't sleep enough in Myrnin's bed earlier, then?" Shane's knock-back comes instantly, and I get the feeling that he's been waiting to say it.

Just in this moment, my fatigue and embarrassment about my actions fade, and in their place comes anger: anger that he can speak to me like this when, at that time, I'd done nothing wrong. It's wrong to have to say "at that time"," but it's true; yesterday daytime, I was (almost) completely innocent. He has no right to try and make me out to be some cheating whore, just because I happened to need some sleep and Myrnin's bed was the only place I could get it; I mean, I've stayed there before – not by choice, but still – and nothing's happened.

"Don't you _dare_!" I hiss, overreacting but not caring. "I didn't do anything at the lab, Shane, and I hate that you don't trust me enough to believe that! I was knackered after spending the entire night in the graveyard – something which is creepy, believe me – and there is absolutely no way that I did anything! I swear!"

Shane's standing up now, mere metres from me, and I can almost feel the rage coming off him. Yet when he speaks, it's a cool, low tone, one that almost reminds me of Amelie. "No, you're right," he surprises me by saying; I should have realised that this would lead to something worse. "You didn't do anything then. You waited until you were in the graveyard again, with many, _many_ witnesses, in order to snog him senseless. Did you want to go to bed with him, Claire, after that? Do you wish that I didn't exist, so that you didn't have to come home from the lab, so you could continue to be a fangbanger the—"

I cut him off, reaching across and slapping him – only for the last bit, for his accusations of me being a fangbanger, given that the rest of it is true – before I stand there, looking at him in horror. Slowly, I change my gaze to Michael, focusing on him, but he doesn't look away under the intensity of my stare; he merely stares back.

"You told him," I whisper, knowing the horror has seeped into my voice. "You…you…you didn't even know what had gone on, and you told him."

Michael shakes his head. "I know that you kissed him, and that you worked with him to bring Sam back from the dead. Why would you do something like that?"

It's in this moment, with the agony in Michael's voice, that I realise he's not only mad about me betraying Shane, but also because I wouldn't explain to him how Sam's back – how I _still_ can't explain that. He told Shane because he was angered about not understanding how Sam could have returned to life – not that he really left, to be honest – and he wanted to hurt me as badly as he could manage.

"You don't understand, do you?" I end up saying to Michael, dropping my bag on the floor as all the energy I had just saps out of me. "I _can't_ tell you. It's worth more than my life; do you think Amelie would be happy if she knew that you had found out how he came back before she did?"

"He's my _grandfather_!" Michael snaps, vampire-scary with the fangs and all. It doesn't scare me; Myrnin's done it enough times for me to be far too blasé about this.

"He's closer to Amelie than to you, and you know that; who was it he tried to reach all those years? It wasn't you, was it?" I find myself saying, deliberately hurting him and not caring. "Amelie gets to know first; when you're the Founder, give me a call and I'll get you top priority tickets – until then, you're on the lower rings, pal. And more than that, Myrnin had just _saved_ me; I was confused and I thought…I was unsure what I was doing, and I ended up kissing Myrnin. I'm sorry; I didn't mean to, and if I could take it back, I would.

"It was a mistake, and it wasn't ever planned; I thought my friends would understand that. I guess I was wrong." With this, I turn and stalk towards the stairs, planning on ignoring the calls from my friends for me to go back, that they understand and accept what I did, though they don't like it.

There are no such calls. My so-called friends don't care. They don't want me.

I've never felt so alone.

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	17. Abandoning

_Chapter 17:_

School basically prevented me from posting this, since I've barely written anything this month.

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_Myrnin's POV:_

She's gone back to the Glass House.

She's left me.

It takes all my effort not to go and destroy absolutely everything in my laboratory; whilst it would be a great stress reliever, it would probably be a prelude to an insane stage. That's not something I can afford right now, particularly with Amelie most likely wanting to see us soon, and there _needs_ to be something for Sam, so that I can appear to be in control of the situation. Our dear Founder will be irritated enough with me for not informing her of what Sam and I arranged, especially because I forgot about the deal, so there's no need to then be unapproachable for an immeasurable period of time.

The anger and the melancholy…they threaten to overcome me, even with my attempts to control myself, because she _left_ me! I didn't think that she would leave, that even if she didn't want to stay for me, she'd stay because Amelie wants results and answers about Sam. Whilst Claire has nothing to do with what happened to Sam, I had hoped that she would stay and try and help me with this final furlong, if only because of the journey we've been on together, if not for doing so because of our closeness. I wouldn't want to say anything beyond 'closeness' because whilst the lines are no longer clear, and are currently being redrawn, I would never have expected her to fall in love with me before…before the ball. It was what I desired, yet I thought her relationship was too strong to even consider being broken; I was wrong, naturally, but…but now things no longer make sense.

The ringing of my phone distracts me from pouring an acid into another, and it jolts me enough to realise that this mixture would have caused an explosion. I shouldn't be working, not in my current state, but I _need_ to find something for Sam, if I want Amelie to understand what I did and why I did it…or, at least to stop her punishing me for not being prepared for his return.

"Amelie," I say in a collected voice, trying my best to sound 'sane'. I think I succeed, but when her reply comes in an uncertain tone, I begin to worry.

"Are you alright, Myrnin?" she asks me, sounding slightly concerned before she gets down to business. "Is Claire there? I require the pair of you to attend me most immediately; it is not a social call, and is urgent."

I sigh. "No. She isn't. She chose to go home—" I begin to explain, before Amelie cuts me off.

"_What_?" Amelie snaps, and I get the feeling that the discovery of my allowing Claire to leave (not that she gave me much choice, when you put her departure in perspective) is not something that has improved Amelie's mood whatsoever. "You must bring her back! I want to speak to both of you, given that it was Claire who…_found_ Sam, not you. Though _you_, dear Myrnin, have much to explain; Sam is resting and is not able to tell me anything." something about her tone scares me. I begin to get the impression that however hard I thought it would be before, it will be ten times – or more – harder when I actually do visit the Founder.

"I...how do you propose I do that?" I reply tiredly; I have no desire to fight with Amelie, but her requesting for me to do something that won't be possible is cause for me to reply to her request. "Something tells me that she won't talk to me, after…never mind. Only your intervention will get her to return here, so we can visit you – I am serious, Amelie."

She hesitates a moment before replying, "Tell her that if she doesn't, her friends pay the ultimate price."

Gulping involuntarily, I nod, then realise Amelie can't tell I'm acquiescing to her request. "Yes…I will. But perhaps you're being _slightly_ harsh…" I trail off before she can interrupt me – something I can tell she would do, from the snarl that emits from the other end of the line.

"If you are trying to tell me what to do in _my_ town, perhaps you feel you would be better suited as ruler, rather than myself," is her response. "You have enough to explain – saying _Samuel_ ought to be enough to have you wanting to run and scream – so why are you sitting there, _moaning_ about Claire and your relationship with her, rather than going to fetch the girl and bringing yourselves to me?" with that, Amelie hangs up the phone – not that I should have expected anything other than that – and I'm left with a dial tone in my ear.

The phone is flung across the room and I hear the shattering of the fragile electronic system inside it, but that's not my focus right now; my focus is on how I get Claire back here in order to get her to Amelie's home. Finding something to abate Sam's problem with retaining blood is no longer the priority, not now that Amelie has summoned us.

How best do I get to Claire in her home? Do I walk through a portal into the living room, and risk seeing the rest of her housemates – people I'm sure dislike me, especially the Collins boy – or do I be presumptive and go directly to her bedroom, just to run the risk of her screaming? There is more chance that she's in her room; I just must hope that she is alone.

Without thinking about it any longer, I move towards the door in the corner of my laboratory and wrench it open, imagining the inside of Claire's bedroom; I know only of the shape of the room, not anything further, and it's an effort to manipulate the wormhole from the Glass House's living room to make it materialise in her bedroom – not impossible, naturally, but certainly more challenging than having to simply step through.

Claire's bedroom is messier than I would have presumed, and I'm pleased to see that it's only her in the room, though the tears I hear falling from her cheeks don't fill me with confidence. I recall being told never to interrupt a crying girl – particularly one who told me that she didn't want to see me – and given that I'm barging in on her privacy, this may end badly.

"Claire?" I say quietly, noting as she jumps and turns to face me with shock. "I hate to be here, given what you said to me before you left, but Amelie demands that you attend a meeting with her now," I explain my reasoning for being present, staying within the doorframe; I don't want to go near her, not if she doesn't want me to. There are boundaries even I have, after all.

"No," is her answer, quiet yet defiant, and I notice her eyes flick towards the door to check that it's locked.

"You have to," I try and explain, knowing that I could just drag her along with me – but I wouldn't want to do that to Claire. Whilst manipulating situations may be something I excel at, I…I won't do that to Claire, not after earlier.

"I don't," she retorts angrily, her eyes flashing with anger as she looks at me. With my appearance, her tears have disappeared, leaving her eyes glistening and her cheeks betraying the tracks of the previously shed moisture droplets. "I don't have to do _anything_, especially because you're the one who did this to Sam, not me. Amelie doesn't want me; _you_ want to try and manipulate me and get me to talk to you, even though I don't _want_ to!"

She begins to cry again, as her voice rises, and I can't help myself; I shoot across the room and grasp her wrists in one hand, covering her mouth with my other. "I wouldn't lie to you – not about this, at least," I begin, adding the latter bit on the end as I realise that it would be a lie to say that. "Amelie has threatened your…_friends,_ if you do not come with me to her home, and she is not herself. She will not care about your relationship with her – did she when she sent you out with me? No, I think not. So you will come with me now, if you want to save your friends."

I give her no choice in coming; as soon as I sense she isn't going to come, I pull her up, none too gently, and begin to drag her towards the portal. By the time we get halfway there, I think she realises that she has to attend, so I release her mouth and one of her wrists, keeping the other just to ensure that she does come with me.

"I _hate_ you!" she snaps at me, and the tone reminds me of how Amelie spoke to me merely five minutes ago. "Why are you making me come with you?"

"I just told you: if you want your friends to survive, you come to Amelie," I repeat, keeping my distance from her as much as possible. Even with how she's being with me now, I would quite happily kiss her at this stage, even thought that is not particularly fitting for the current situation.

She doesn't reply as I close the portal door and reopen it to show Amelie's office to us both, the room cast in darkness and completely empty. I don't speak, either, as we walk through, though I realise that she is gripping my wrist as I grip hers, as we emerge into the darkness; she can't see anything, I realise, and so flick the switch on the wall to turn on the electric lighting.

"Where do we go?" she whispers, and I get the feeling that underneath her anger, she's scared. Most of her emotions are most likely centred on me and what…we did, and so being jolted out of her crying (about what, I wouldn't want to comment) is not particularly helpful to her.

"This way," I respond, letting go of her now, if only for my own sanity; if she continues to be close to me, her scent…it would overwhelm me, make me believe that I had a chance to be with her.

"_What_ way?" she replies as we step out of the office and into the hallway, not noticing that I'm moving down towards the left. "Oh, well, _thanks_ for telling me!" is her response, and if I had any doubt for those few moments in the office that she continued to hate me, it's cleared away with her words.

I don't speak to her as we walk down the hallway, my ears focused on listening for sounds of Amelie and adjusting our path through the winding corridors accordingly. It's difficult to remain focused on what we're here to discuss, and every time I begin to think about how to explain to Amelie what has happened six months ago, my mind is drawn back to Claire…and wondering whether or not she _does_ hate me or not.

And then we're here.

The door opens before I even reach it, and we walk through together, Claire's anger dissapitating as the fear must take over; I'm a good enough companion when facing Amelie, it seems, particularly after what occurred the last time they met.

"Myrnin," Amelie says my name, sitting on a chaise lounge in the centre of the room – one of her drawing rooms, I instantly realise, recognising it from my first years in Morganville – and the look on her face is mixed: part of her expression is angry, the rest of it is strangely happy, an emotion I haven't seen from her in so long. "You certainly took your time arriving here."

I bow before her, the slight jovial movement an attempt to relax myself before the inquisition begins, and smile ever so slightly. "If you appreciate that Claire had gone home and that I had to rouse her, before navigating your home at a human speed, you will understand that it takes longer than it would take you, my dear," I reply, slightly hesitant.

She doesn't look at me after I finish speaking; her attention turns to Claire. "And what do you have to say for yourself, Claire?"

The girl beside me shrugs, and I wince internally; I thought she would be clever enough to realise that Amelie is irritated with her, and that her usual limits for rudeness are out of bounds. "You wanted me here, Myrnin brought me here, and so I'm here. That's all I have to say for myself."

The anger flashes over Amelie's face as the main emotion, her eyes colouring silver, before she recomposes herself – perhaps quick enough for Claire not to have noticed. The look I cast in Claire's direction, however, tells me that she saw the anger, and it's only served to make her adequately scared.

"I have no desire for preamble; I want to know _how_ you brought Sam back to life, in such a manner, and…and why you didn't _tell_ me!" Amelie's composure slips as she demands to know this information, and the slight rising out of her chair merely furthers this.

Without her saying to, I take a seat opposite Amelie, and Claire does the same; Amelie's eyes flash again, but I ignore them. If I am going to be punished, I will certainly be comfortable whilst she sentences me.

And so I explain.

I explain everything that occurred when Sam came to my laboratory shortly before the final stand against Bishop, then how I happened to forget what had happened. I go into detail about everything we did when we tried to find Sam, including how Claire went off on her own to find Sam – I pass on every detail of the past days, bar the kisses, and as I do so, Amelie's face stays steadily neutral.

"Do you have anything to add?" she asks Claire as I fall silent, looking at the floor.

"Only that…that you shouldn't be mad at Myrnin for this, because he did it for you, and…that's it," she says hesitantly, and I dare to look at her in shock. She…she defended me!

Looking back at Amelie, she doesn't seem pleased that Claire is daring to tell her how to react, and I'm about to jump in when Amelie looks at me – and she isn't the happy woman I had dared hope she would be.

"You left him there to destroy his morals, killing anyone who came close because he didn't have anyone to support him," she says quietly, the tremble in her voice only evident to me because of how long I've known her. "He's barely alive _still_, Myrnin, because of you…I would have…I…words fail me as I try and explain how I feel about this, because whilst I cannot deny my ecstasy that he is returned to me, the cost at which it occurred is almost too great.

"You have disgraced yourself more than you ever have done before, Myrnin, if only for _forgetting_ about him. And I cannot forgive that – for now, at least. If you can save him from this current predicament, where his digestion of the blood he intakes is almost immediate, then perhaps your position in my life will be adjusted to its former level. For now, I never want to see you again. Leave my home, return to your home, and do not bother me.

"As for you, Claire, you are to return to your life as normal; return home, rest, and then study before working with this man. I want advancements within the next few days about Sam's condition…and…you are to tell Michael why his grandfather is alive, if Myrnin cannot manage it himself." Amelie's voice is indicative of her anger, now, and the feeling in my body is most certainly one of sadness.

There is a difference between the sadness that Claire hates me, and the sadness that Amelie does; my longest friend ought never to need say such a thing, when all I have ever done is defend her, yet I cannot deny that she is right. I should have told her…and it's wrong that I didn't remember to.

"Very well, I shall leave and not return until I have good news," I sigh, not meeting Amelie's eyes as I stand. "Make your own way home, Claire. Do not feel as though you must take the portal with me, _no_, not if it makes you uncomfortable." I'm being harsh, almost petulant, with my tone and choice of words, but I don't care; I'm angry, hurt and ashamed.

With this, I walk out of Amelie's drawing room and don't look back; I don't listen to whatever she's undoubtedly saying to Claire, don't listen for Claire's progress out of the room – I just leave through Amelie's office's portal and return to my laboratory.

Now is time to put Claire out of my mind and put together a cure for Sam – if she doesn't join me, that is.

Something tells me that riling Oliver is the only fun I'm going to have for the foreseeable future.

* * *

Please don't favourite without reviewing.

If I get 15 reviews, the names get drawn and the winner gets a oneshot, ok?

Oh, but if you're waiting for a chapter, you should go and read some of my other stories: Oppression is my new Clyrnin story, and Rivulets is my best (in my opinion) writing I've ever done (SamAmelie). Ok. Bye.


	18. Capture

_Chapter 18:_

Life's pretty hectic right now, but I am trying to get back into the writing swing!

* * *

_Claire's POV:_

After leaving Amelie's drawing room – a visit that filled me with a fear that has stayed with me since departing – I head to Common Grounds, determined to take an hour or two outside of the house to gain a better perspective on the events of the past few days, and the (complicated) state of affairs I have with pretty much every person I previously considered myself to be close to. After all, none of my so-called friends know I left the house; it's not as though they're exactly going to miss me now, are they?

Moving quickly through the streets, avoiding the dead ends that litter Morganville, I soon arrive at Common Grounds, not entirely sure where I've come from; Amelie's home isn't in Founder's Square, that's for sure…but where? It's as though I can't remember where I've gotten here from, and for one second, I pause and wonder whether or not this is deliberate, whether Amelie has somehow managed to get the machine to create some sort of confusing field, so that when someone leaves her home, they're unsure as to their location until they reach their next destination.

And I bet that if you're human and leave her home confused about where to go (though the odds of this happening are probably a million to one; I'm probably the first human not there as food to enter her _home_ in Morganville's existence) you probably end up in a pit somewhere, just a snack for a passing vampire.

Stalking past a bunch of final-year college students, I march up to the counter in Common Grounds, amazed to see Oliver serving. I had thought that Amelie would be utilising him to try and find something to cure Sam…but perhaps even she can see that that would be cruel; she did _date_ him, after all, and has abandoned him merely hours ago.

Then again, she's been crueller.

"The usual, Claire?" Oliver says, his tone perfectly polite, and he begins to prepare my usual: white mocha with extra foam, complete with chocolate sprinkles.

"No," I reply straight away, the word just shooting out of my mouth. I don't know why; I guess I just…feel like, since everything else is changing, my coffee choice should as well. It's stupid, I guess, but it's the way that I feel; absolutely _everything_ else that has been constant in my life, at least for the past six months, has changed…so why not even my drink choice.

"Well, are you going to inform me what you want, or are you going to clog up my café for the rest of the day?" now, Oliver's snapping, and it's how I would have expected him to behave: angry at everyone, but in particular me, because it was me who found Sam.

I can't let him speak to me like this. So, very deliberately, I turn around and look at the non-existent queue, before raising an eyebrow. "I'll have…a latte with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles," I decide, watching as Oliver adapts whatever he had began to prepare for my normal drink into this new order. "So…how are you?"

This startles Oliver enough to get him to stop preparing the drink and look up at me in shock for a full five seconds. Very slowly, he recollects himself and continues making the drink, avoiding my question for a short while. "Of all the things I expected you to say—to gloat, perhaps, or even to ask me to keep quiet about what I saw in the lab—you ask me how I am?" he confirms and I nod slowly. All this does is procure an incredulous expression, one that I never thought I would see from Oliver. "I…things are complicated, Claire, too complex for you to understand. Things are in motion now, and whilst I may regret the individual actions, as a whole, it's the only way that I can—ahh, never mind, here, take your drink." He begins to tell me something, if not directly then at least in a riddle, but he realises just who he's talking to (the Founder's former 'pet' and the assistant of her one time former friend) and instantly stops.

"Alright then, that sounds interesting," I blatantly lie, but it doesn't even get a smile from the man. All he does is stare at me, his expression intense, and hand me my drink.

"On the house," he says, turning away, muttering something as he does. I don't press to ask what it is; with Oliver, it's probably best not to know.

Noting an empty seat in the corner, I make my way towards it, ignoring the whispering vampires and the way that they continually seem to be looking in my direction, not even lowering their gaze when they notice me looking. Evidently, they don't care. I ignore them, though, not commenting on the rudeness of what they're doing; I merely sit and stare at the far wall, sipping my coffee and wondering where it all went wrong.

Was it when Bishop came to town; were Shane and I already on a downward spiral from our high? Or was it after that, when Myrnin was cured from the disease and I realised just _how_ brilliant company he is, how he's someone I could imagine being with? Or maybe it was just when I first thought that he was someone I could be with, because any normal girl—or boy—in a relationship doesn't do that…they just don't. I broke the rules, and that's when things started to get screwed up; it _has_ to be! Things were already…different before Amelie made Myrnin and I attend the ball together; that, and its following events, was merely the catalyst for whatever emotional rollercoaster that's going on inside of me right now.

I don't know what to do, where to head on from here; Shane's made it quite obvious that he's disgusted with me…but I'm sure that if I make some concessions and give him time to get over what I did, then he'll forgive me. Michael, on the other hand, may be easier to placate – or maybe not, since Myrnin is the one who has to pass on that his grandfather's alive, and that the events of the past few days could have been avoided, if Sam hadn't been forgotten about. But at least his anger at me will abate, aside for the aforementioned kiss, and there'd be a chance of me getting an ally or two in the house, given that Eve seems to follow Michael's opinion now. That would only leave Shane…

As I ponder over this, I finish my coffee and just sit, working out the last details, until I'm aware of someone standing over me: Oliver. He looks interested, yet in a clinical manner, and I get the feeling that I should be scared of him – more scared than usual, that is, which is worrying. What could he be planning – if he _is_ planning anything – that could be _that_ bad?

"It's dark," he tells me, and I look to the window in shock; how long have I been in here? As though he can tell that, he smiles ever so slightly, adding, "you've been sat in here about…four hours, I'd hazard a guess at. I had no need for the table, hence why you didn't get kicked out. I know…of your situation."

That gets me. "If you want to discuss what you saw in the lab, fine!" I snap, standing up. "In fact, it'd be good for you to get it out of your system so that you can…you can stop holding it over me!"

He raises an eyebrow, cool as ever, and I get that sinister feeling again – but stronger. "I've spoken to you twice since I saw you kissing the dog, Claire; when exactly have I threatened to reveal it to everyone?"

"You…you didn't! But I know you, Oliver, I know what you'll do!" I cry out, suddenly thankful that the café is empty. It may mean that I'm alone with Oliver – how on _earth_ did I not notice the other customers leaving? – but at least it means there are no witnesses to this.

The smile fades from Oliver's face and he folds his arms, leaning against the counter. He looks old, worn almost, and yet simultaneously, very, _very_ dangerous. "You don't know a single thing about me, Claire Danvers," he says, his tone soft and sinister, "and yet you believe you can assume how I feel. You know nothing of how I feel – if I even have feelings, something your dog assures me I don't every chance he gets – and even if you did, it is not your _place_ to comment on them!"

"Alright, alright, I'm going!" I say, holding my hands up as I realise this is the only way to get out of the situation: appeasing Oliver and letting him think he's won, just so that I can get out of Common Grounds alive. "Your feelings are none of my business and I'll never, ever have the audacity to comment on them again, are you happy?"

He doesn't say a word, merely watches me as I walk out of the café slowly, turning back every now and then to see that he isn't following me out.

And as soon as I'm outside, I run.

It's dark and I no longer have a band to show that I'm Protected; I may be a neutral in town, and wear a pin to prove this, but when there's a hungry vampire, something tells me that they're not going to be looking at my collar and spying the gold badge that marks me out as someone for them to avoid their chowing down on. I'm merely a walking bloodbag for them, and that's all they'll see, I'm certain.

As I move as quickly as possible down the best-lit streets on my way home, I realise that I could have taken the portal, or have gotten to the Day house – relatively close to Common Grounds – and taken it home from there. It would have saved this sprint home, the one that's got my heartbeat as fast as it was when I was running with Amelie and Hannah with Bishop around, and have gotten me around the whole 'how the hell did you get out of your room?' question I know I'm going to have to face. But I'm almost home now, I guess, only a few streets away in this extremely empty Morganville; I've not even seen a _glimpse_ of a vampire on the streets now that I've left the café. And that in itself is odd; never have I been out on a night and not seen one of the walking dead, or whatever Amelie's referring to them as nowadays.

I hear a car engine revving down the street, and from the sound of it, it sounds like a vampire car. Evidently, they've not all been chased off the streets given that there's one coming down now, after me – but they won't want me. Vamps don't get out of their cars for nobody, unless maybe there's someone lying in the middle of the road bleeding – aka a free meal, no worries about the issue of Protection. That's the law, anyway.

Continuing to run, I realise something: the car's alongside me. And it's slowing down…now it's stopped.

They must be after me.

I don't slow to see who it is; they'll be after me anyway. Instead, I run as fast as I can, ignoring the burning sensation in my muscles because they're absolutely knackered and need energy to move, yet somehow I keep fighting, even though I know it's a futile battle, given that the vampire can run dozens of times faster than me.

Whoever it is has me within seconds. "Now, now, Claire, you don't want to struggle, do you?" they say, and with a shock, I realise it's Oliver. What does _he_ want with me? Why does he want to kidnap me? "If you struggle, then I'll have to hurt you – more than I already will – and that doesn't make me feel good. You see, I don't like getting blood on the leather, as it's extremely difficult to wash out."

That doesn't make me stop struggling. Even though fighting back against Oliver is the most idiotic and pointless thing I could possibly do, I do it, because he can't kidnap me – he's just said that he's going to hurt me, so why would I not even try and evade his capture of me?

He sighs. "I _told_ you not to struggle!" he snaps, and I sense rather than see his fangs falling down from their hiding place. He has me from behind, one arm wrapped around my waist, the other on my mouth to prevent me from screaming, and I get the scariest feeling that he's going to snap my neck or something like that, before he merely moves his hand from my mouth and presses his fingers into my neck.

And, as easy as that, I feel myself fading out of consciousness, not even having the energy to scream out for help.

_~x~_

An immeasurable period of time later, I wake up, my neck sore and my wrists bound. It's more than just the after effect of Oliver knocking me out – the side of my neck is wet.

Wet with my blood.

I turn slightly to see Oliver turning around from whatever he's looking at, the expression on his face a confusing mixture of emotions: anger, frustration, amusement (that one sickens me more than the rest) but, more than anything else…sadness. It's like he's sad to have done this to me.

"Let me go!" I yell at him, trying to twist my wrists out of the knots they're in behind my back: no use. He's too good at tying knots.

"No, no, not until you've served your purpose," he says to me, taking a step forwards to be within a few metres of me now. "Ahh, Claire, your blood tastes so sweet – I can see now why Myrnin is so smitten with you."

"He has only tasted it once, so I don't know what _you're_ talking about," I shoot back, no longer caring about getting angry with him; he's already kidnapped me, fed on me whilst unconscious and has locked me up: there isn't much more he can do! "Why do you want me here, then?"

"Ah, you finally ask the golden question!" Oliver says, slightly sarcastically. "You see, _you_ are the one I hold responsible for Amelie leaving me…and you're the one she isn't angry with; I hear from the grapevine that Myrnin has been disowned until he can come up with some sort of solution to Sam's little…issue."

"So, you're basically saying that because Amelie doesn't hate me, you're going to use me…to what, get Amelie to dump Sam and come back to you?" I query, my heart sinking as I come up with this hypothesis.

Oliver's eyes gleam, and I can tell without him even needing to verbally confirm it that this is correct. "You really are too bright; it's an abomination to be so clever, yet so obtuse," he mutters. "But yes, essentially, that is the plan: I write the note to Amelie that your life rests on whether or not she is willing to give up the ginger, and if she does, you live, only having suffered a few bruises and minor blood loss."

He smiles at me now, and it's a wicked smile, one that I wish I could forget – but I can't; it's ingrained itself deep into my mind.

"If she _doesn't_ return to me, well, you die a slow, painful death at the hands of a hurt and unforgiving man."

* * *

Please don't favourite or alert without reviewing, thanks.

I'll be writing more frequently (I hope) so don't expect the update to be that far away!


	19. Necessity to Barter

_Chapter 19:_

* * *

_Myrnin's POV:_

As soon as I return to my laboratory, I focus immediately on the issue at hand: finding a way to resolve Sam's issue with retaining blood. _This_ is the only thing I can do to try and regain the standing I had before, not only in Claire's eyes, but in Amelie's also—especially Amelie's. It pains me greater that Amelie, my longest, most dear friend, hates me, than Claire; after all, we are only at the beginning of our journey, are we not? I have plenty of time to change her mind about me, to make her realise that what I have done has not been to harm people, but to help them; that, I can make her see.

I just don't want this to be the end of the line for the relationship between Amelie and myself; we have been friends for so long, through some of the most difficult and challenging stages of our lives, and for this to be the last contact we have…it cannot be. And this means that I must focus solely on ensuring that Sam is once again himself before I return to making Claire understand where her heart truly lies—it is only right. I cannot justify to myself bringing Claire back to me before solving Sam's issue, given that Amelie is right: it is my fault that he is in his current predicament. I could have done so much…but I didn't; I forgot, and that is inexcusable.

And so this is what I must do.

_~x~_

Hours pass, and I become completely absorbed in my work; nothing matters to me but the science of Sam's body and running experiments to try and affect the rate of digestion; there is nothing else in the world but this.

The phone Amelie insisted I have has rang numerous times since I sat down in here to work, but answering a call from someone I most likely do not want to speak to is not important; not unless it is someone calling to inform me that Sam has made a miraculous recovery will I care—and I'm not going to check it to find out.

Work is the only thing to keep my mind from wandering into the questioning line of _what if_: what if Sam doesn't get better? What if Claire never understands why I have done what I have? What if this…place is the only place I am permitted to be for the rest of my life, to live here alone without company as my punishment for what I have done? _What if…?_

I can't think of this, hence the need to work and work, not even taking breaks as the experiment works its magic; as it runs, I studiously monitor it, making unnecessary notes about the rate it digests, and whether or not the addition of certain chemicals and vitamins influences it—and if so, by how much in which direction. It is rather mundane science, editing a system to ensure that it operates at what is considered to be normal.

It's not until I feel the summoning of a portal, its formation built with ice-cold tendrils that are instantly recognisable as Amelie, do I allow myself to look away from the work bench and to think of anything other than the matter at hand. There is a new pressing matter, one that needs addressing:

Why is Amelie, someone who professed to never desire to speak to me again merely hours ago, in my laboratory, with a look of stricken fear on her face?

"I am not here to see you," she says, clarifying her presence here slightly. "I am here…because I received a message earlier. And it isn't something that we should be pleased about, Myrnin."

This, no doubt about it, scares me; whenever Amelie feels the need to be scared, the rest of us ought to have ran a long, long time ago. She doesn't understand fear the rest of us do—I suppose it has something to do with her age and how long she has lived a life of power and security—and that is therefore an issue. Whatever it is, it is bad; I can feel it just from the way that she is looking at me. Gone is the complete and utter hatred for me; now, there are more pressing emotions in her face: the aforementioned fear, and a concern for…_me_?

I know what this is to do with—I just can't admit it. I can't allow myself to think that something has happened to Claire (Amelie wouldn't be here for any other reason, I know that) because then where will I be? I will be a broken man (_vampire)_ who has only science to live for, science being something that was previously shared with the dead girl who I have feelings for. Life wouldn't be liveable, I'm certain—yet I am far too much of a coward to take my own life.

"If you are here about Sam, then I am almost finished with the first stage of his treatment," I say, deliberately ignoring what Amelie said. It's the only way to avoid the possibility of thinking _what if?_ "It will be ready for collection—for I presume that you do not want me anywhere near your abode—within the next hour or two, so your beau will be ready to do whatever the pair of you desire by morning. I can only once again apologise for—"

"Myrnin!" she snaps at me, stopping me in my tracks, and for the first time, I notice a piece of paper enclosed within her hand. "It is most definitely not about Sam, though I am pleased with your progress. This is about—"

This time, it's my turn to cut Amelie off, though I know from past experience that this isn't the safest option. "I don't want to know," I say to her, my voice sharp. "Whatever she—or whomever—is doing, I don't care. It isn't my problem any longer; you ensured that!"

Amelie's eyes narrow as she looks at me. "You are now blaming me," she states simply, in a way that means I cannot say anything in response, even to agree. "Your loyalty and mannerisms towards me need work, Myrnin, as does your ability to inform me of things, yet that is not the case. Would you like to know that Claire, your so-called love, has been kidnapped by none other than Oliver?"

I stop what I'm doing and freeze, my eyes locked into Amelie's. She isn't lying; she isn't trying to make me feel as she has—she is telling the truth. Oliver has kidnapped Claire. _Why?_

Without realising how, I fall to the ground, tears streaming down my face, yet Amelie does nothing to help. She merely watches me.

I've never felt so alone.

* * *

_Claire's POV:_

No matter how much I struggle, I can't get my hands out of the tight knots Oliver has tied them behind my back with; even forcing myself to take deep breaths and think about the situation logically doesn't help. I am trapped here, to die, and nobody knows I am here besides Oliver—and he isn't really going to tell my friends that I'm here, is he?

Oh, I forgot. I _have_ no friends…at least, no friends who care about me enough to even notice that I'm not in my room, let alone that I've been kidnapped by a psychotic vampire who turns out to be in love with Amelie. _That_ is the most surprising thing; I knew that he loved her, and that she most likely loved him, but I didn't realise that he loves her enough to kidnap the apparently most important human in Morganville, in order to try and barter for an exchange: Amelie for me.

He is absolutely stark raving _mad_ if he thinks that Amelie is going to try and get me back in exchange for giving up Sam, someone she's only just gotten back! I mean nothing in the grand order of things; true, I did save the town on numerous occasions, most of them being to do with Amelie's father, but that doesn't equal to anything compared to being given something back that was originally believed to be forever lost. I'm a rude, insolent human to Amelie, and she's only put up with these traits for so long because of what I've done; I probably had marks on my wrists from when she grabbed me at the ball, a few nights ago. She's done with mollycoddling me (if that's what you could call her forcing me to work for the insane scientist who was affected by the disease) and now, my survival doesn't matter to her.

"Ahh, you're finally seeing sense." Oliver's voice appears suddenly, he having left the room a while ago, and I start slightly, realising that he's referring to the fact that I'm no longer struggling against my bindings. "Amelie has been informed of your predicament, and the terms have been set for your release. All we must do now is sit comfortably…until I get peckish again, that is." He smiles at me, and I shiver involuntarily; he's flashing fangs, and the only image in my mind is him standing over me, biting me whilst I scream—he's already bitten me today, I was just thankfully unconscious during it.

"It won't work," I spit at him. "Amelie doesn't care about me; I'm nothing to her, compared to Sam. Look how easily she left you! There is no way that I'm wanted more than Sam is. So you need to get yourself a new plan, Oliver, if you want Amelie back—ever heard of a thing called _flowers_?" I'm being deliberately sarcastic (perhaps too much so, given the circumstances) but I can't help it; it's too compelling, given that he's kidnapped me and is basically threatening my life.

Before I even see him move, Oliver's standing before me, and his hand flashes through the air to slap my face. It stings where his skin contacts mine, and I know that he could quite easily have broken something with that swing—I'm lucky he hasn't. As it is, it feels as though I'm about to pass out; everything's going dizzy, and it's an effort to breathe properly.

"Did I ever specify that it would be Amelie who wanted you back?" Oliver smiles at me, and it takes me a few minutes to process what he's said.

But when I do, I understand what he means immediately.

"No," I whisper, barely audible, "No, no, no, no, no, no, _NO_!" You can't do that, Oliver! It wouldn't be fair—please, don't make Amelie choose between keeping Myrnin sane and having Sam. It's not fair!"

He smiles, an evil, vindictive emotion spreading across his face, and I realise that I was wrong to ever consider that he had changed; he is still as evil as he always was. "Well, I would word it more that Amelie needs Myrnin, and she won't do anything that could alienate him from her—that means that, although she won't want you, she will want you back for Myrnin—meaning that I shall be reunited with her once more. You get to return to your love, and I get Amelie. It's a simple win-win situation."

I shake my head as forcefully as I dare, given that my head continues to feel as though it's going to explode. "You don't understand, do you? Amelie doesn't care about Myrnin, not really; she has her town's security systems and even if they fail, Morganville doesn't need to exist any longer! She can run off with Sam and be happy, even if Myrnin is destroyed, even if I never leave this room alive. This town isn't what drives her; now, that would be Sam, and there's nothing you can do that can make her change her mind." It breaks my heart to say this, to acknowledge that the chance of me getting out of here is smaller than the chance that pigs can fly, and I have to fight to ensure that the tears don't stream down my face; I don't want him to see how admitting this has broken me. "And anyway, Myrnin doesn't love me that much—he'll move on; I don't love him, he doesn't love me, not really." It hurts me to admit this, too, but I do it; it's my only potential way to get out of here.

This time, Oliver ups his smile—this time, I get a laugh out of him. "Yet Claire, the person you presumed that you meant the most to—evidently the one you care for the most—was Myrnin. You didn't even think of Shane; the first person you thought of was Myrnin. You thought about me wanting to get at Amelie through him, which I admit is rather obvious, but not as obvious as love: you think of the person you love the most when you could be putting them in grave danger."

He's right. Of course he's right, but why, _how_, can I admit this? All I have done is try to deny how I feel, try to imagine that the kisses never occurred, so how can I now, in what are potentially the final hours of my life, admit that I was wrong, and that Shane _and_ Myrnin were—are—right? It's not often that you can say both Shane and Myrnin agree on something, but they do…and all my denying it has done is cause even greater heartache for all three of us, even though I've been let off from most of it. I've destroyed two of the people I love the most—and now, I may not even get a chance to say I'm sorry.

"Why do you want to do this?" I whisper, though there's no need to: I know the answer. He wants Amelie back, and this is the only way that he knows. "Can't you just accept that she's not with you? Do you have to hurt her, hurt Myrnin, hurt…other people?" my voice breaks on the final word, and the effort to keep the tears in is even greater; it takes almost all my concentration, and yet I still don't succeed. My vision is blurred, causing me to quickly blink and try and dislodge the drops, so that I can see the man—vampire—who could potentially kill me.

He shrugs. "Myrnin did that to me by not telling anyone about Sam; he has put me down for my entire existence, and whilst I know that I am better than him, it is hard to put up with the insults after a certain period of time. More than that, if he had told me—or even Amelie—that Glass would return, I would never have allowed myself to—never mind." he suddenly snaps the final two words, his voice prior to them having grown slightly softer, and I hesitate, almost torn between despising him and wanting to feel sorry for him.

The ropes that bind me remind me that I ought to despise him, even if I understand why he's doing this, in a twisted way—I _do_ hate him, I do. He could kill me, destroy everyone I care about and potentially even break Amelie, if he manages to get to Sam.

I hate him.

"Well, I hope you enjoy destroying Myrnin," I manage to whisper, a lump forming in my throat. "Because Amelie isn't going to cave, not for me, not for a human—I'm the only person you're getting, Oliver. It can—it will—be no other way."

He grins again, flashing fang, and thankfully, he remains on the other side of the room. "For your sake, Claire, I hope very much that you are wrong…though it could be interesting to destroy Myrnin…"

For the first time in many months, I'm stricken with fear.

_I'm not getting out of this_.

* * *

_Myrnin's POV:_

"What do you _mean_, we're not giving into his demands?" I snarl at Amelie, minutes after I manage to pull myself together enough to analyse the note Oliver has left for us. "He wants…what does he want? I don't really care what he wants; he will kill Claire if he doesn't get what he wants!"

She shakes her head slowly, and I feel a surge of irritation that she doesn't understand what Oliver's like, until she clarifies her movement, "I know what he will do. I just refuse to do this. I refuse to acquiesce to his request. I refuse to…barter."

Unable to help myself, I throw one of the tables over onto its side, shattering dozens of test tubes and even breaking one of the table's legs. I don't care. He's going to kill Claire, to destroy me irreparably, and yet Amelie refuses to do anything. Why?

"I cannot, Myrnin," she murmurs, and I realise too late that I must have spoken aloud, as I have often been prone to do for many centuries. "She cannot…she is not…comparable to what is at stake. I cannot do this."

"WHY?!" I yell as loud as I can, shaking my head and pulling it about by my hair as I do so. Amelie winces slightly at my volume yet I don't care; as she continues to refuse to answer, I grow more and more furious, casting my arms across the tables to clear them, destroying everything bar the product I created for her beau. "Why won't you save the one person who means anything to me in this living world, Amelie?"

She hesitates. "I cannot. You may not launch a mission to save her, Myrnin, I merely came here to inform you as to why Claire would no longer be present on the town's data system."

I narrow my eyes; she's telling the truth. And just like that, the fight's taken out of me; before I even consider attacking Amelie, I'm broken, crumbling to the floor—and in this moment, I feel the icy aura around me. Amelie has been doing this to break me, pushing her power into me to ensure that I do not do what I considered for a moment: to break her as she has broken me.

"In that case, consider this town's defences—anything that I have done—defunct," I mutter through the tears that have begun to fall once more. "If you don't at least tell me what you think Oliver wants, then I will not do one single thing for you ever again. You can leave me here and never bother to come back—and cancel the blood delivery service."

"Don't be melodramatic, Myrnin," Amelie replies, evidently not understanding how serious I am being.

"I guarantee that I am being most deathly serious," I say in response, and suddenly, Amelie understands.

She flashes across the room to be standing in front of me, above me, towering over me, and she looks almost torn, almost as though this is a hard decision. "I don't want you to hurt, my oldest friend," she says quietly. "But I cannot lose him again, I cannot."

And it's in this moment that I think I understand what Oliver wants.

"What does he want, Amelie?" I question again, however, on the chance that I am wrong—oh, how I hope I am.

She looks me in the eye, and I crumple completely; I am right. "He is proposing a trade—Myrnin, he wants me to leave Sam, in order for Claire to live.

"He wants me to choose between my happiness—and yours."

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If I get 10 reviews, I'll write a oneshot for one of the reviewers.


	20. Plotting

_Chapter 20:_

I'm sorry that this took a couple of days longer than I thought it would (but compared to my other updates, this is ridiculously fast). I discovered yesterday that I've got a series of interviews at Oxford University next week, so I'll have more free time (hopefully) to do some writing...so other fics WILL be updated!

And the person who gets a oneshot is MyrninsBitch, according to this random name generator, so feel free to request.

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_Claire's POV:_

Hours and hours pass, and nothing happens: Oliver remains standing on the other side of the room, staring at me, and I do everything I can to try and keep my sanity. I don't want to end up babbling when he kills me—he will, I know he will, because Amelie would never give Sam up for Myrnin to be happy—or even crying. If I do, he will have won, and so I don't want that to happen…I want to be strong when he kills me, strong enough to look him in the eyes and make him realise what a stupidly terrible thing he's doing.

I am slightly shocked that there hasn't even been an attempt at a rescue mission, but then I remember that my 'friends' don't even know I'm here, and even if they did, I doubt they would do anything. I'm just the traitor who broke Shane's heart, and chose to help my vampire boss over them. Still, I'd like to hope that if they know, they're doing something, because if not, I would wonder if we were ever friends. Chances are, though, Amelie hasn't told them what's going on, and they'll presume that I'm at the laboratory or something—at least, that's what I'm hoping. This would only result in their death, if they tried to rescue me…and I don't want that to happen. My current mindset may be anti-Shane and the others, but their death due to an ill-advised attempt to rescue me would be the worst thing imaginable.

Finally, Oliver speaks. "Nobody's coming." He sounds almost disappointed, and it's everything I can do _not_ to reply sarcastically; if I do, I basically secure that my death will occur within thirty seconds.

"I did say that Amelie wasn't going to trade me for Sam…" I say slowly, feeling that my tone is calm enough for him not to attack. "Perhaps you're only just seeing _now_ the flaw in your plan: Amelie doesn't care about Myrnin more than Sam."

Oliver snarls and for one horrible, terrifying moment, I fear that he's going to move across the room and do it now, kill me within seconds of my reminding him of the fact that Amelie's love for Sam is greater than her friendship with Myrnin. But it's as though he takes a few seconds to breathe and calm down, for all he does is take a step backwards from where I am tied.

"I am not yet convinced that Amelie has had enough time to make her decision," Oliver says, almost to himself, and it's with a great effort that I resist calling him the biggest idiot that has ever lived; can he not tell that if she has had five hours, her decision has been made? "Midday tomorrow is the deadline—I shall pass this message on. You have until then to be saved by your beau, Claire." he sounds almost—_almost_—sad, as though part of him regrets what he's going to do to me.

"You don't have to do it." The words slip out of my mouth before I can stop them, and I detect a slight curiosity in Oliver as he looks at me once more. "I mean, it could just be an empty threat, you could let me go and then…then leave. Amelie respects you too much to send anyone after you; it'd be a win-win situation! Don't you see the benefits for both of us?"

For one long moment, it looks like he's considering it. I can see the difference in him, see that he is most certainly considering this course of action…before he smiles. And with the smile, I know that all hope is lost.

"Whilst that would certainly be a situation that benefits yourself, Claire, it would not give me what I want," he tells me, and the slight slither of hope I felt before completely disappears. "Believe me, it does not particularly please me to have to kill you; you would make a great addition to the ranks of my kind…it is just that a message must be sent out, a message that is clear: Amelie gives me what I want, or everything she holds dear to her is destroyed." Oliver's voice is cold, his tone hard, and I feel an involuntary shiver run through me as he speaks.

"Why?" the one word bursts out of my lips, barely louder than a whisper, and I'm ashamed to admit that my voice is broken, betraying my pain.

"You don't understand the rules of warfare, Claire, you are much too young—and naïve—to understand," Oliver says dismissively, but as he takes a step closer to me, I sense a little sympathy in his tone. It's strange, but I know that he doesn't want to do this, that he has left himself no other choice. "In the days of guerrilla warfare, my preferred type unlike Amelie, if we threatened something, we did it. It meant that our enemies knew that we meant business…and if Amelie does not act, then she will indeed be my enemy once again, although it will be with a most heavy heart that I acknowledge this. You are the leverage, dear girl, and whilst I would prefer it to be that awful Collins boy, that would not be enough. Your fate lies in the hands of Amelie, and I hope you are wrong in your conclusion…for your sake, mine and that of Morganville." Oliver's voice is softer than at any other moment since he kidnapped me, and it is a struggle to avoid myself feeling sorry for him. If my death wasn't on the cards, I would do…but it is, so I cannot feel sympathy for the man. I have explained what he can do, yet he has no desire to do it; he is now taking the wrong path.

"In that case, we wait until my execution." I am thankful that my voice is stronger at this point, strong enough for me to look Oliver in the eye and not tremble. For this moment at least, I am not afraid of what the next few hours will bring.

I can only hope that Myrnin will have a plan.

* * *

_Myrnin's POV:_

It takes a long time for me to recover from the knowledge Amelie has burdened me with, knowledge that I knew the moment she told me that Oliver has Claire, yet that I refused to admit. It takes too long for me to recover; by the time that I am in a state which leaves me able to talk comprehensively, many hours have passed, and I know that Amelie grows more and more unsure about what to do.

"We must do _something_!" I growl for what seems like the hundredth time, and for the hundredth time, Amelie shakes her head.

"What do you propose we do, Myrnin?" she sighs, sinking into the reading chair situated next to my bookcase. "Do you propose I agree to leave Sam to bind myself to Oliver forever, just so that you can have a girl who most likely does not reciprocate your feelings? Do you propose we attempt to lead an army into a battle against the one of the greatest warlords the world has ever seen, in order to rescue a girl he will kill before we even reach him? _What_ do you suggest, because I have exhausted every potential solution to no avail, and I am yet to think of anything?" her voice is weary, and for the briefest moment, I feel sorrow for her.

And then it fades, as I recall Claire's fate if we do not do _something_.

Amelie can ban me from acting against Oliver to save Claire…but perhaps…perhaps if she does not specify calling in the Glass House children—if they'll speak to me without throwing a stake through my heart, that is—I can utilise them.

"I am afraid that I have no solution other than to attempt to talk to Oliver…or to use the portals," I murmur slowly, having not considered the malleable wormholes that are at my disposal. It is slightly surprising that it has taken so long, given that they are our usual choice of transportation in a crisis…but I have considered it—why is Amelie shaking her head?

"Myrnin, I have told you: I will not act," she says slowly but firmly. "And neither shall you; _you_ shall not act in order to bring Claire back from Oliver's grasps. I cannot risk you." Her stress on the word 'you' suggests to me that she knows what my plan is, has most likely known it for double the length of time I have, and that she is giving me her permission to use the children in this rescue mission.

It will be my downfall to include Shane Collins, I know this; if he rescues Claire, he will forgive her the sins she has committed, and she will see him as her saving grace. She will not choose me over him. But if it means that she lives, that she has the _chance_ to come to me…I cannot pass up this opportunity.

"I have…experiments to be running." Words come out of my mouth but I do not focus on them; instead, I am considering the ways through which I can firstly determine Claire's location, and then complete the rescue mission. "Perhaps it would be best if you returned to Samuel—with this for him—and leave me in peace. You have never been good in laboratories with fire rife."

Amelie's eyes narrow at me, but she does not speak as she rises from the chair, moving towards the portal slowly. "Good luck in your endeavours, Myrnin. I give you my blessing, if not my assistance." Before I can consider saying a word, she has gone, moved from the room faster than the wind, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

Claire is dying; she is on her death bed as she waits to be saved from Oliver's grasp, and I am very much reliant on those insolent children who reside in the Glass House. Without them, all chance of relieving Claire from this early death is gone, for I cannot act alone, Amelie has forbidden it.

Then again, if it comes to it…rules are made to be broken, Amelie's especially.

_~x~_

Having completed a rough plan of what we will do whenever we find Claire—adaptable to various scenarios, including the potential one of gunpowder being rigged to set alight if anyone attempts to rescue Claire—and armed with weapons of choice, I take a deep breath before approaching the wooden door on my far wall. It's time to visit the Glass House.

Visiting this location never fills me with joy, and it is even less joyous today, given that the three of them will most likely have stakes aimed at the wall on the chance that I, or another, pass through the portal into their home.

Taking a step through the portal, I hesitate as I step into the living room…for good reason: the three of them are sat on their sofa, deep in a discussion which breaks off as soon as they spy me.

"Hello," I find myself saying, extremely cheerily. "I am here to—" I begin, but the Collins boy cuts me off.

"If you're here for Claire, you're on the wrong floor, bloodsucker," the boy snarls, and is about to continue the insults, when I speak.

"I am here to speak to the three of you, not the girl who has been missing for the past five or so hours," I say sharply, noting the surprised look on all three of the children's faces. "Oh, for heaven's sake, Michael, did you not listen to the fact that a heartbeat just _miraculously disappeared_ from your home?" I continue, sounding far too much like Amelie for my own good…but that's by-the-by.

He shrugs slightly, but I notice the way that his head lifts; he is scanning the upstairs for the heartbeat that is not there. Only then does he stand up, only then does he believe me that Claire is not here. "Where is she?" he demands of me, and I realise that he has instantly jumped to the conclusion that I have a great part in her disappearance. I don't…not technically.

"I haven't the faintest clue, it will be wherever Oliver considers to be the greatest hiding place," I respond, gripping my handmade crossbolt tighter in my hand. "But I have been forbidden to retrieve Claire alone—by Amelie herself, most unfortunately; her word alone binds me—and therefore I must come to the three of you to rescue your friend."

Half expecting the three of them to jump up instantly—even the Rosser girl, though she has been awfully quiet in my time in here; normally, she would have complimented my clothing at least twice in this space of time—I stand, watching their faces…and nobody moves. There's not even the slightest impression in their faces that they want to save the girl that they are supposed to be friends with, nothing whatsoever.

"Did you not understand me?" I question, once three minutes of silence pass. "The girl is in the utmost danger; she is going to die if she is not rescued!"

"Good." The word pops out of Shane's mouth so fast that I cannot believe that he has said it; I don't believe that he can comprehend what he said, either. "I mean…she's a fangbanger now. She isn't my Claire any longer."

A half-snarl escapes my lips, and the three of them recoil backwards involuntarily. "She is nothing of the sort!" I defend Claire's honour, enraged that such a thing could be suggested. "And have you forgotten the meaning of the word _friendship_? Throughout the years, this word has brought me a great many accounts of extra trouble, because I have done something for a friend. I have put myself in grievous peril to save someone I would like to be in my life for a little longer than they otherwise would have been. Either you modern children do not understand the meaning of the word, or you are choosing to send your friend to an early grave because you are trying to send a message.

"It does not work. Who will learn from the message? Claire will be dead; nobody will know of your intense anger or feelings of betrayal. Only you three will suffer, suffer for the knowledge that you could have prevented her death, yet due to these feelings, you chose not to. What happens when the anger abates, and you realise that Claire's death was futile? You may, indeed, never come to this conclusion, and be lifelong enemies from this day forth…yet you will not know whether or not this is the case if she dies, will you?" Taking an unnecessary breath, I pause, waiting for any flicker of recognition in their faces from my words.

The first one to is Michael. "Give me the crossbow; if we're against Oliver, I want that," he says slowly, standing up and taking a step closer to me. "But this doesn't mean that I agree with what you and she did, or that I want to forgive her. I just…don't want her to die."

Nodding in agreement with this, Eve—I think her name is, at least—stands up. "I have the same viewpoint. But if this is against Oliver, I want a silver coated stake, and as much ammo as I can carry." Her tone is business-like, brisker than normal…and almost scary. It would be scary if I happened to be younger, and more susceptible to her attack.

Silence reigns for a few minutes, before the Collins boy stands up. He doesn't approach me, doesn't even look at me, but says quietly, "I'll do this so that we're even. Then we're done."

Nobody says anything with regards to his words, so I decide to fill the silence by discussing the plan, indicating to the scribbles on the piece of paper in my hand. Eve and Michael seem to follow what I am saying, with only a few requests for clarification—apparently the usual abbreviation of hospital isn't hpl—so within five minutes, we are on the same page.

"Now," I say slowly, "the hard part: we need to find Oliver's secret lair."

With as much sarcasm as I would expect from the girl, she says, "oh, well that should be a bed of roses!"

"That isn't a bad idea," is my response, taking her completely seriously; it is a valid idea, and I know that the man used secret passageways before. "But the only issue is…would the flowerbed be a secret doorway down to the underground, or would it be a lever to reveal a secret room on the back of his home?" I muse this point for a minute, missing the looks passed between Eve and Michael. Perhaps they're curious about this, too.

There are few sensible suggestions from the two of them, for Shane refuses to speak in my presence, so I suggest an alternative. "If the two—or three—of you find a map and consider locations which belong to Oliver, I will see if I can use science to bring us an answer," I say, already moving towards the portal. "Feel free to take some weapons!"

"I'll use them to kill you, so no thanks," Shane mutters, but I pretend not to hear him.

"Squad meeting in half an hour!" I yell at the top of my lungs, already in my laboratory on the other side of town, before closing the portal door.

I have only one possible idea that could find Claire. I just hope that it's crazy enough to work.

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Ten reviews and I'll update asap (honestly) and write a random person a oneshot.


	21. Agreements

Oneshot goes to Writer Rider Dirty Thirties, according to the random generator I used!

Sorry I didn't get a chance to update it instantly; I've had a lot of stuff going on, but just know that the next chapter is (hopefully) worth the wait

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_Chapter 21:_

_Claire's POV:_

Having evidently fallen asleep, I find myself being awoken roughly by Oliver. The expression on his face makes my heart sink; there's been no change. Whilst I never in one thousand years expected that Amelie would sacrifice Sam for me (or, rather, Myrnin), sleep brought with it an obtuseness that consciousness cruelly snatches away, and now I'm left with the knowledge that death must be soon.

"I take it that you've heard no word," I say as coolly as I dare. "Or if you have, it's basically telling you that you're a sleazy idiot who isn't getting what he wants?" This is pushing it, I can tell, and I have the distinct pleasure (or perhaps punishment, that's more likely) of watching the anger build on Oliver's face. He manages to calm down before he hits me, which surprises me, just like the absence of a sarcastic smile upon his lips.

"You'll pay for that, little girl," Oliver replies, his tone indicating how hard he's fighting to keep himself from showing his anger. "Just you wait until the time passes and I see proof that what you're saying is true. You'll rue the day you were first rude to me, I can assure you of that."

He's trying to scare me, to psychologically attack me whilst he remains unable to completely destroy me physically, and I'm ashamed to admit that it works; I can feel my breathing getting heavier, feel the thudding of my heart increasing in its frequency, and it scares me even further. Oliver's too good at this, he's had far too much practise torturing his prisoners over the years, and I'm just the latest in a long line of those who have suffered at his hands. If he wants me to suffer, I'll suffer, be it physically or not.

Very slowly, I take deep breaths in order to attempt to regulate myself and get my body back to normal, something which causes the expression on Oliver's face to change to a mixture of amusement and darkness, as though nothing good in him remains.

"You really do amaze me, Claire Danvers," he comments. "Time and time again, you've had a chance to give up—not just here, but in your entire time in Morganville—and yet you never have. You may not believe me, but my actions later on will pain me…all I want is Amelie, and you just happened to get in the way. I cannot go back on my word, yet the composure you have, it astounds me."

I suppose I'm meant to be impressed or something, or at least mollified because 'he has no choice', as he's said before, but I'm not. "If you don't mind, I'd appreciate it if you left me alone; I don't want to have to put up with your face during my last few hours."

Oliver nods and, without another word, takes steps backwards before suddenly disappearing from my line of vision, making use of his vampire speed. His absence gives me a chance to look at the state of the room I'm in; it's lit by harsh electric lighting, the floor and walls made of concrete which seems covered in some sort of green mould stuff. There's a dampness in the air that suggests the room has very poor ventilation and that Oliver hasn't invested in a central heating system. I bet it isn't even his hidey-hole; the twisted man will probably have used some of Amelie's property that she's forgotten about.

Still, there's no point in over analysing my location; I've only got a few hours left. I may as well spend them asleep.

_Myrnin's POV:_

It takes a long time to cajole the machine in the corner to turn on, due to it never being used, but finally, it does, the screen's resolution shockingly low; what little I know about computers stems from Claire's teaching, but even I recognise that this one's quality is appalling.

That isn't the issue right now, however. The issue is the fact that I need to find something of Claire's that she has left in this laboratory—for I am _not_ returning to the Glass House until I have a pinpointed location—and then remove the DNA coding that lies within. This then needs to be inserted into the machine, which will link into the machine (though I shan't tell the machine what I'm doing) and give me a general idea where she is located. The machine is too old to give me an exact location, so I shall require the maps Amelie insisted I store in here _somewhere_ to look up the region and see which buildings Oliver owns. Knowing this man and his tricks, if in his right mind, he'll have deliberately chosen someplace either not on the map or that doesn't belong to him. However, the speed with which he enacted this plan (and actually formed it) as well as the state of mind he must be in at the shocking news that Sam has returned, I presume that he won't have been that precise in his planning.

Not dallying about, I follow the trails of Claire's scent, finding her jacket on the sofa. Its presence almost distracts me into the realisation that if I cannot find Claire, she _will_ die, but I just about manage to concentrate on finding a stray hair on the collar. It isn't hard to find, Claire's hair seems to shed itself all over the place continually, yet it takes a minute or two to prevent the monster at the back of my mind surging forwards to protect me from the pain that this scenario has put me in. To go into the darkness and save myself from feeling anything other than insanity would be a blessing right now…but that is impossible when I have the responsibility I currently have: to save Claire.

Quickly processing the hair, I insert the information into the machine, pressing various buttons according to the manual I left with the metal junk when I made it. I knew that I would very rarely need it—normally, locating people would be left to the police or, in the rare occasion they're off the radar and they are a vampire, Amelie's services would be utilised, but given that Claire is not a vampire she cannot be found—and so therefore made a comprehensive (for me) manual which is surprisingly logical in its progression through the steps. For a creation when under the influence of the disease, I'm impressed with my handiwork.

_Chug, chug, chug_, the noise of the machine irritates me, and I consider bursting my eardrums just to alleviate the noise when I realise I'm out of blood; it wouldn't make for a good idea to require blood and then head into a house with a human I absolutely despise inside. Truly, there would be no worse thing for me to do. So I put up with the noise, humming as merrily as I can manage, because the alternative would be to cry—and crying isn't something that would be productive at this current moment in time.

Finally, the machine's display changes to a map of Morganville which, sadly, is extremely outdated. It has various buildings I recognise as being torn down in the nineteen eighties, when Amelie went through a phase of wanting to change things, upon it…and it is this general area where the machine is locating Claire. I recognise the region, though I cannot for the life of me think why; even when this map was in-date, which was during the fifties, I was not permitted to wander the streets of Morganville. Alas, there is no need to question this; I need to locate a more up-to-date resource than this machine.

Underneath a pile of priceless first-edition books, I find the maps that Amelie has updated every year since Morganville's conception, and I hastily spread the map out on the tabletop to analyse it. Countless glass bottles fall to the floor, spilling their contents everywhere, but provided no human enters the laboratory in the next few hours, it should be safe—it won't affect me, certainly. My priority is Claire, not the chemicals which can be replaced.

Using a piece of chalk left on the table, I ring the region which the machine has identified as where Claire is, and to my horror, realise that there is only one building in the immediate area around where the girl is—well, one building of any relevance. There are small huts on the site, but they are all closely guarded.

It is Amelie's home.

Oliver has found a way to get into Amelie's home—perhaps underground, I don't know—and is keeping Claire there. He really _is_ playing it close to home with regards to Amelie to give her more chance to get to him, as though that would ever be a possibility.

For almost a minute, I stare at the space on the wall opposite where I currently stand, unable to process this. Oliver has surpassed what I believed he was able to do. He has infiltrated an organisation around Amelie that I believed to be near impenetrable. He has found access to the underground system—for that is the only place where Claire could be located; there is no way that he can have gotten himself access to Amelie's _house_—and evidently knows more about the location than myself.

He has the superior position.

All I can do is hope that the children are able to listen to me for long enough to do as I say and ensure that we don't all perish as we attempt to rescue one of the most important girls in my existence.

_~x~_

The girl—Evan is it?—splutters her drink back into her glass as I reappear in the Glass House and tell them of Claire's location.

"You and your stupid little machine contraption's wrong," she insists, though I'm not quite sure why she's so adamant that Amelie's home isn't Claire's location. "There's no _way_ that Queen Bee would let Oliver onto her grounds, let alone with an unconscious girl. Let's start at his home or something obvious like that, he's not a master of disguise and stealth, is he?"

The boy vampire is about to agree with her until I flash him a look; he should understand from feeling the power Oliver possesses that that isn't what Oliver's like; the man is a danger, a menace to anyone who crosses him.

"You are, I presume, aware that Oliver is none other than Oliver Cromwell, the man who managed to _overthrow the monarchy of England_?" I confirm, stressing one of his greatest achievements. "Then, when the Parliamentary forces appeared to be as corrupt as the previous runners of the country, he culled them, leaving himself as the most senior man in the entire country. He slaughtered thousands of men, women and children because they defied him. He was the greatest strategist that the world has ever seen, I believe—"

Shane cuts me off. "Yes, yes, we don't need the history lesson, how is this going to help Claire?"

I feel my eyes flash red for he is being obtuse as ever, yet I manage to remain relatively patient. "You need to understand that you are up against the greatest fighter the world has ever seen; even generals in the second world war didn't match up to him in any aspect. There is a very slim chance that he will have left anything to chance, even with every decision having been made in a very short time scale; you must understand that you _will _be in danger. And more than that, he will not give up without a fight, if we even manage to locate where he is."

The three of them furrow their brows, and as they do, I divert my gaze to the clock above the mantelpiece. We have less than half an hour to save Claire. With my workforce, consisting of three people who hate me and are unable to go more than five minutes without arguing with one another, I am doubtful that we are going to succeed in our mission.

"Let's go," Michael says, his tone lacking the usual jovial edge that it usually has, even in my presence. He grabs the car keys from the side, and I immediately get excited; perhaps he will allow me to drive. We may be heading to save Claire, yet that doesn't prevent me from allowing myself the small pleasure of potential driving. Michael senses this however, and says, "you're not driving. I am."

Immediately, any rousing of my mood disappears and I'm back to how I was before: slightly despondent, and desperate to get out of here to find Claire. "Very well…but I'm not sitting next to that oaf," I reply, motioning to Shane who looks slightly relieved with my words.

The girl sighs. "I'll sit next to the crazy dude in the back, because if it prevents world war three, that'll be good enough for me."

Never have I been so happy for this girl to exist.

_~x~_

We pull up just alongside the boundary to Amelie's lands, a bad feeling settling over me. This location is meant to be hidden, yet some of the most vehemently anti-vampire people of Morganville—Shane in particular—are now aware of Amelie's most sacred place. Yet there is the positive that he is unable to enter without her permission…I suppose that is a slight positive.

The three of them turn to look at me as the car stops, and I sigh, wondering what I've done wrong now. "Yes?"

"Are you certain that this is right?" Michael pushes, and I have to resist rolling my eyes, instead focusing my attention on the gun in my hands.

"I'm about as certain as the sun is sure to rise in the morning," I reply quietly, not feeling the need to justify myself, and slightly irritated that I am required to. "Now if you wish to join me in this rescue mission, that would be greatly appreciated given that I have been banned."

The three of them finally exit the car, and I quickly look at the time on the analogue clock in the front to see that, until the deadline, we have less than ten minutes. I am not hopeful for the success of this mission.

Yet what else do I have but saving Claire?

* * *

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	22. Endgame

_Chapter 22:_

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_Myrnin's POV:_

Gripping one of my homemade guns in my hand, I turn to face the two humans and vampire boy, none of whom look particularly heartened by our mission. "She is here," I remind them. "The machine can only tell me the truth, and it concluded that Claire's current location is upon Amelie's property—it does not, however, tell me whether or not she is under or above ground."

Shane rolls his eyes and I fight back a flash of fury within me; we have mere minutes to save Claire, and yet he doesn't seem to be listening. "Is this helpful?" he snaps, playing with a weapon in his hands. I don't avert my gaze from his face to look at it; that could be deemed as a sign of weakness, of fear, something certainly not wanted in front of Shane Collins.

"It is if you want to have a semi-organised plan to save her," I reply, my tone dry. "If you feel that you can cover three acres of ground both above and below within the next ten minutes, then by all means go ahead. I feel the odds are slightly more in our favour if we arrange how we are going to search, however."

The boy opens his mouth to say something, but the blond who looks so much like his grandfather takes a step forwards. "Yes, yes, you're right, Myrnin, it's better to go in with a plan," he agrees, but my eyes are still locked on Shane's face—currently, it's betraying just how disgusted he is with his friend for agreeing with me. "_What_, Shane? You can't deny that it's a better idea to cover the ground properly, and it might mean we…we actually get to where we want to be." Michael turns to face me, his expression grim. "What do we do?"

Accepting the fact that he has placed me in charge—not that I wasn't already—I take a step backwards, nodding as I do so. "I don't care about how you three do it, but you cover ground level; I wouldn't want to work with the Collins boy, and to be frank, you're all far too slow for me," I begin, noting the look of relief on the humans' faces. "I will go to Amelie's home and confirm that he isn't there—there are many, _many_ rooms and it would be quite easy for him to have snuck into one of them—before working my way through the underground passages."

Michael looks suspicious. "How are you going to manage that in eight minutes?" he asks, and I shrug. "And anyway, didn't you say that Amelie _banned_ you from looking for Claire?"

"Yes, yes, I did say that, otherwise I would have had no need for any of you," I reply impatiently, looking at the clock. _Eight and a half minutes left_. "Can we leave the questioning of the plan until _after_ we have enacted it, because I would rather find the girl alive…?"

Shane mutters something which I purposefully choose to ignore, though I know he knows I've heard.

"If you're banned from searching, then why are you going to Amelie's home?" Michael says, exasperated. "That won't exactly help, will it, our fastest weapon being detained by the woman who said you couldn't look for Claire!"

The second the clock is about to turn, I burst into motion, unable to stay standing still any longer. "I'll make something up; it doesn't matter to me if Amelie thinks I'm mad! If you find her, call any number; my phone can pick up any mobile signals in the nearby vicinity. I shall, of course, do you the same courtesy."

Before I can hear any of their replies I'm moving as swiftly as ever, darting across the dark land towards the back door of Amelie's great house. The actions of the humans—for Michael is barely a vampire—are slower than mine, yet still hasty as they begin their search for their friend, though Shane doesn't seem to understand that we ought to be _silent_ during this mission. If Oliver hears, he'll cut the deal short, and that isn't something that any of us want, I'm sure.

Within ten seconds, I've covered a great distance, arriving within the more cultivated region of Amelie's grounds; it's where she likes to spend evenings in the summer, surrounded by flowers—in particular roses. All around now, however, are her guards, who are casually surrounding me; as if they think they can outrun me!

Putting on a slight burst of speed, I reach the back door to Amelie's home, certain that she'll be with Sam, who most likely will be housed in a room near to this door. This may mean, if she catches my scent, she will answer the door herself.

A full ten or so seconds ahead of the guards who are supposed to stop people like myself, my fist is pounding upon Amelie's back door, and I'm yelling, "Amelie! Amelie! You need to let me in; it's an emergency." I can hear the desperation in my voice, hear the way that I'm begging Amelie to answer the door, and can only hope that she will do. Tears begin to stream down my cheeks once more as I put every ounce of myself into the connection between us, her as my ruler me as her servant, silently whispering through our connection for her to come to me, for her to help me.

As I'm about to be caught by the guards and I'm building up for a repeat of my begging, the door's flung open, and I fall into Amelie's home. The homeowner herself is standing before me, her expression displeased, and I'm certain she knows why I'm here…I'm just hoping that she'll accept the lie I am going to feed her.

"What do you want, Myrnin, and why is it that you have come to visit me through an _external_ door, rather than your preferred invasion of my privacy through portals?" she asks me, her eyebrow raising slightly as she speaks.

"I…I have to check the house and grounds for signs of…beetle infestations," I reply as swiftly as I can, coming up with an excuse on the spot. I lift my gun slightly, causing Amelie's expression to turn slightly sour; she's always hated weapons, particularly when they're unnecessary. "This gun has special powder in it to try and blast the infestations to pieces—they're all over the lower town, apparently. I don't want them to get a hold in here, otherwise there's a chance that…that the entire building will have to be pulled down."

"Is that so?" Amelie murmurs, the expression on her face proof that she doesn't believe me. Still, she moves aside, allowing me into her house as she shuts the door. "Well, I shan't stop you. Just ensure that you are off the premises by one o'clock in the morning; Sam will be awake then, and I don't want him to have to face _your_ idiotic self when still weak." She smiles ever so slightly. "I want him to be at full strength when he insults you for everything you've done."

I dismiss her words with a wave and shrug that I shall regret later, though I don't care for the consequences of tomorrow as I race through the corridor on the ground floor, certain that Oliver couldn't be higher up than this. There are only three possible locations upon the ground floor, then the entire cellar, for the room would have to be soundproofed…but, from what I recall, the cellar is humungous, and is split into tiny rooms. It was intended to be a questioning centre for humans until Amelie realised the security risk and so had them all closed. They're all a possibility.

Within one quarter of a minute, I've ascertained that the rooms on the ground floor are free from Oliver contamination and am on my way down to the cellar, sliding down the tunnel designed for something that hasn't ever been followed through on rather than running; it's quicker than finding the stairs. When downstairs, I begin by smelling the air, able to tell by the staleness of it that the entire left hand side of the cellar hasn't been entered in over a year by anyone, human or vampire. At least that's cut down on the number of locations I have to search…

I follow the most recent pathways of scent, realising that there is a chance that Oliver could have entered through a different entrance, but after opening every door down the right side of the cellar, I have to conclude that he isn't here. Either he didn't know about these rooms, or he felt that it was too risky entering the physical den of the lion; under Amelie's grounds is close enough.

As I'm bursting into the tunnel that leads under the grounds, I know that this is where I'll find Claire; now I know she isn't in Amelie's home, I'm aware of the fact that she's down here. The only possibilities above ground aren't big or secure enough for Oliver—he does like to have room to play with his food—and there's always the potential of someone catching him purely by accident. Down here, in a place the majority of Amelie's men (or, wider than that, most of _Morganville_) aren't aware of, he's got the chance to do whatever he wants…all without being caught.

"Dammit!" I growl as I move through the winding tunnels of this place, the smell of bleach and mould strong within the air. The mixture affects my ability to smell out freshness of scent, meaning I have the entire underground to cover—and only four and a half minutes to do it in. "Why did he have to do this?" I continue, shifting the gun so that it's resting under my arm rather than in my hands; I'm too close to snapping it in my firm grip.

Some doors are locked down here, their keys long ago lost and forgotten about, but I kick them open to ensure their state is empty, wasting no time in fiddling with the locks. Nobody, not even Amelie, cares about these rooms; they're forgotten about and disused, most likely why Oliver chose them. It also means that I don't have to leave them in a decent state of repair when I leave.

I stop muttering to myself as I advance down another passageway, desperately hoping that I can reach them before the clock strikes—

There isn't a sound but I know.

I know that it's 12am: midnight. It's a feeling in my bones, my mental clock having counted down to this moment; I don't need to check my phone to confirm the time.

This is the minute of Claire's death.

_Claire's POV:_

At a quarter to twelve, Oliver sets up a digital clock in the corner, its numbers flashing bright red, and whilst I attempt to avoid counting down the minutes until my death, it's impossible to resist.

"It's so tempting to watch life slip from within your fingers, isn't it?" Oliver says quietly as he sits across from me, his eyes locked on the clock. "This isn't your fault, yet you're watching your own life fade away…I never wanted that, to know that the end will soon be upon me and that something will take me—that's why I chose the path I did, immortality to an extent. It means that I don't have to fear death…at least as much as you humans do."

I deliberately don't look at him, but something about the pause makes me think that he's waiting for an answer. "I don't fear death," I whisper, but I'm lying. I fear death; I fear not seeing the people I love again and telling them that I'm sorry for whatever I've done, and that I just want us to move on. I fear not seeing Myrnin again, not being able to help him, not being able to be helped by _him_ which he is surprisingly good at. I don't want to leave him…

It's in this moment that I realise, with all too clear a clarity, that this is another potential death situation—though more _definite_ than potential—and that I'm thinking about Myrnin again. It's him who I'm worried about, should I die; I know that Eve and Michael will be alright, my parents probably won't even notice I'm gone the amount that we see one another nowadays, and Shane…Shane is Shane. He doesn't need me now, not anymore; he won't need me when I die.

In my worries, I don't realise that the time's slipping away as quickly as it is until I look at the clock and see that it's 11:59pm; I'm into my last minute. Every book I've ever read says that the last of life is meant to go by super-slowly, but as I look at the seconds, they seem to be increasing in speed as they tick onwards…I've got thirty seconds, then twenty before I think even two's passed, and I realise that this is my time to say my words of love to the people I adore…but I have no words.

Nothing's coming out of my dry throat. I'm stunned at the last hurdle, unable to say anything—and so I turn to the one way left I have to express emotion: through tears.

They drip down my cheeks before I'm consciously aware that I'm crying, and the wetness of my chin makes me think that I've been crying ever since Oliver put the clock up, though I don't remember it.

The clock strikes twelve, clanging slightly to signal another day, and slowly, I raise my head to look at Oliver.

He doesn't look happy, more resigned, as though he never expected this to happen. "I thought…I thought that Myrnin meant more to her than he evidently does," he mutters, which confuses me. Surely this is about Sam? Oliver notices my confusion and shakes his head. "I don't mean like that, Claire, I mean that this was the ultimate threat; they're supposed to be the closest of friends, so close that even a lover couldn't get between them—I suppose that I was wrong."

Taking a step towards me, Oliver sighs; his expression's changed to almost look sad…but his self-pity for what he's about to do won't save me. Only Amelie or Myrnin have the power to save me—and neither of them seem to be coming.

"Please," is the only word that escapes my lips as Oliver advances closer, untying the ropes that bind me to the chair. At least he's allowing me some dignity in death…if that is possible in this situation. I feel almost ashamed that the only word I can utter is my begging for him to stop when he quite obviously can't, for whatever reason, but I can't stop myself. I keep trying to appeal to his human side…evidently, he doesn't have one—or it's not strong enough to overturn the obligation to his code that he evidently has.

His fangs pierce my neck before I realise and I scream, shocked that my life could be fading already; I feel him drinking deeply, feel my heart rate slowing and slowing, until it feels as though it's barely there. My eyes lock on the clock—it's only 12:03am but it feels so, so much later. Maybe it's the light in the room, but everything's going fuzzy; it hurts to keep my eyes open, to support my head, and so I stop trying.

I flop into Oliver's arms and he removes his fangs from my neck; it doesn't hurt, not really. I'm going numb, I suppose.

"I'm truly sorry," I think I hear him whisper as he sets me down on the floor. I'm not sure though.

It hurts too much to do anything—so I fade into the blackness.

_Myrnin's POV:_

I hear a scream.

It's too late.

The noise gives me something to pinpoint in the darkness and I follow it, the echo of it haunting my ears so that even if I wanted to forget it, I couldn't. No matter what happens now, this noise will stay with me the rest of my life—something which may not be very long should I make the wrong decision now.

It takes almost a minute to locate the exact point where Claire and Oliver are, and I know instantly that it's too late. She's on the floor, her skin chalky white, paler than it's ever been, and her eyes are closed. Her chest is barely moving, if at all, and everything about her looks how a corpse does: dead, and not coming back.

In the corner of the room is Oliver, but I pay no attention to him as I fall to my knees next to the young woman I could have seen out the end of the universe with, pulling her into my arms. "Why?" I find myself screaming, a bitter fight occurring within me to ensure that I don't lose all of my sanity in these moments. "Why her? Why not _me_?"

I cling Claire close to me, not willing to let her go, not for anything.

_Not until I die_.

* * *

I'd really appreciate feedback on this chapter because I found it really hard to write.


	23. Changes

_Chapter 23:_

Alright, alright, so I fail at updating. I had a lot to do, then just kept forgetting to write more. But here, have this chapter; I sincerely hope you enjoy it!

* * *

_Myrnin's POV:_

"She isn't dead."

I don't know where I hear these words, or who has said them, but it stuns me enough to make me lift my head from Claire's shoulder and look at her, _properly_ look. It makes me listen harder than I was listening before, gives me the glimmer of hope that normally means that everything's going to be ok: it gives me a chance.

Someone as old as I shouldn't have missed what I have missed, and for one long, horrifying second, I feel sickened with myself that I've been sitting here crying over Claire's body for minutes when she's been _alive_! There's only a flicker of a heartbeat, perhaps one or two impulses emitted from her brain to keep the absolutely vital organs running—I can't feel her breath against my skin, indicating that she's so very cold inside now—but…but that's enough. To turn into a vampire, there only needs to be the very slightest sign of life…and I have it.

Her chest doesn't rise and fall as it ought to, and only staring at it very intensely makes me think that it _is_ moving; it looks like a trick of the minimal light in this dank, abandoned place—but it isn't. It's the spark of vitality that's needed for Claire to live.

It's the best thing that I've ever seen in my life.

Some sort of elated laughter bursts out of my mouth, and within seconds, I've lifted her and summoned a portal to take us to Amelie. I could turn her, theoretically, but whilst it may cost us precious seconds taking Claire to Amelie, it could save her life. Insanity will perhaps haunt her in her vampire form if I turn her; Amelie has no such worries and therefore Claire will be wholly healthy if the Founder of Morganville completes the transformation.

Bursting through the portal into Amelie's hallway, I shout for my oldest friend as soon as we arrive, my ears pinpointing her exact location—not that I need it. She's in the room she was in ten minutes ago, with Sam, and therefore this is the room I gravitate towards, though this time, I intend to greet Amelie with a girl in my arms.

Claire's so pale that she could pass for one of us already, and as I press my finger against her slightly pursed lips, her exhalation is barely noticeable. My focus is on her heartbeat and ensuring that there is even a tiny flicker every few seconds; without this, there is no hope.

"Amelie, your assistance is required most urgently!" I call as I near the entrance to Sam's room, unsure as to how safe it is to take a human—albeit a nearly _dead_ human—into the vicinity of a blood-starved vampire. Claire is my priority, as always, and whilst I know that it would cause Sam great pain for her to be near him, if she doesn't get to Amelie, she is dead anyway.

The door opens before I have to kick it open, and an Amelie with an irate expression stares at me in disbelief, an expression which soon turns to confusion when she notices Claire in my arms. "Why are you bringing a dead human into my home, Myrnin?" she says calmly, her intonation not flickering even the slightest as she looks away from Claire back into my eyes.

"She isn't dead," I respond, willing Amelie to understand, to listen deeply and to hear what I hear. All she needs to do is believe, and then she can turn Claire and the young girl won't be subjected to a wrongfully early death merely because Amelie couldn't give her lover up.

But belief isn't something that Amelie continues to have; too many false hopes from me in my attempt to cure the disease led to that.

"She isn't alive, Myrnin, my friend," Amelie says, her voice soft as she reaches out for my arm. I take a step backwards, in order for her not to touch me. "If you bring her in, I can prove it to you; Sam won't react if she's dead—his auditory skills are second to none, and are more developed than even my own. He will be able to sense even a flicker of a heartbeat."

Not wanting to waste any time, I barge past Amelie into the room, fear blinding me—fear that perhaps she's right, perhaps Claire is dead and that I've been hearing something that doesn't exist for the past minute—ignoring her noise of disgust at the same time. She doesn't grasp the severity of the situation, I fear, not now she has her love back. We may very well be friends, but in the grand scheme of things, my love is nothing compared to hers.

Before I even set Claire down upon one of the sofas which adorn this overly lavishly decorated room, there's a flurry of movement from the other end of the room: the end where Sam is. He's moving, which can only mean one thing; already, he's sensed that there is life within Claire, that she isn't dead as Amelie had feared.

"It's impossible," Amelie breathes as she scurries past me to Sam's side. "Hush, Samuel, it's quite alright. Drink this and you will feel better."

I set Claire down, but even now, Amelie doesn't seem to be in a hurry to return to me and to turn her; she dallies by Sam's side even when it becomes clear that he is no longer especially interested in Claire.

"Would you mind coming here _today_, Amelie?" I find myself snapping, more than slightly waspishly, and I feel the redness cloud my vision. Anger and impatience has made my inner vampire rise to the surface, and no matter how much I want to push it back down so that I'm the man Claire knows, I can't. "I may not be as important to you as Samuel, but if you don't want Claire to die I suggest you come here now."

Within seconds, Amelie is by my side, on her knees by the sofa where Claire lies, her fangs visible to me. "I come when I please and when my other responsibilities are dealt with, not when _you_ deign me to," she replies, her voice extremely steady. "Now, if you would remain by Samuel's side whilst I turn Claire, it would be appreciated." She begins to move closer to Claire's neck, brushing the hair away so that there's clear access to the pulmonary vein as she moves.

"No," I reply instantaneously, tightening my grip on the side of the sofa. "I'm not leaving her, not now…not when it could all go wrong."

Amelie pauses in her mission, her fangs merely an inch from Claire's neck as she turns to face me. A look in her eyes scares me, but I remain standing where I am, defiant of her wishes, because to leave Claire wouldn't be the best thing for retaining a sane state of mind. "Go to Samuel _now_, or I shall cease this turning and leave you either to turn her yourself—and risk her becoming insane—or allow her to die. It is your choice, Myrnin." She is deathly serious, I can tell, and very reluctantly, I lower my gaze to take one last look at Claire's human form. She's even paler now, if possible, and any slight motion is eradicated; she looks like a corpse.

"Hurry," I murmur as I move. "Please, Amelie."

She says nothing; instead, she lowers her head and bites into Claire's neck.

As I stand by Sam, I wince; the noise of Amelie tearing into Claire's skin is too painful. Yet, as before, I must struggle on if I want her to survive.

_~x~_

_Claire's POV:_

The first thing I feel is pain, and instinctively, I think that I must be in hell—or at least being taken somewhere where pain is the desired objective. Perhaps my life has been focused on the wrong things, perhaps I've helped the wrong people, and that's why even in the afterlife, I'm being punished.

However, when I think for a second or so more, and the pain begins to cease once more into a numbness that correlates with the lack of blood within my body, I realise that the source of the pain is my neck. And unless I've been extremely unlucky in this life-after-death scenario, the bite in my neck has merely revived me into being awake for the very last moments of my life as Claire Danvers, a human within Morganville who may or may not have gained herself some feelings for an insane vampire.

I can't tell if this is a good or a bad thing; the last thing I remember is being with Oliver, so if he's after me for even more blood, then this is just going to end in death. However_,_ there is always a chance that this is someone who has come to save me…and whilst this method of saving would never have been my first choice, it's going to ensure—perhaps—that I don't die today. Therefore, I consider it saving me.

My mouth is forced open, though I can't feel anyone touching my skin, and a stream of lukewarm liquid pours into it, trickling down my throat as it does so. The liquid's saltier than anything that I've ever tasted, and in all honesty, is nothing like what I expected blood to taste of. Even if I wanted to stop myself drinking it, I couldn't; as it spreads through into my system, it feels as though it's warming me up, recharging the nerves which run through my body. My brain, which mere moments ago felt as though it was about to give up, begins to hurt more than anything else—and it's a pain that I wish had never started.

Within half a minute of this blood being in my body, the pain that began in my head is spreading, and parts of me which were originally numb are no longer in this state; they ache as though I've been for a long run without stopping, and feel as though they're about to fall off. It isn't an unbearable pain, however…more just an aching one, as though I have absolutely nothing left in my body to give to keeping myself alive. The slight pressure my heart has been exerting in order to pump blood to my brain begins to slow, and a low curse from a female someone near to me makes me think that, perhaps, this ought not to be happening.

Perhaps I'm not even managing to succeed at turning into a vampire.

It feels strange, the slowing of my heart, though I focus more upon the aches that spread into every part of my body. There isn't a muscle that doesn't feel affected; even my neck feels as though it's spent. It doesn't hurt—but the new pressure upon my chest _does_.

Appearing suddenly, one second not there the next there, an extreme pressure presses down into my skin, forcing my heart into the position it should be in as it contracts, sending the blood which isn't mine around my body. The pressure then relieves, giving me perhaps half a second of time to appreciate the comparative ease the ache brings me, before it is back, sending the blood around my body and to my brain once more.

This continues for an immeasurable period of time, during which I begin to forget the more and more monotonous pain of someone with superhuman strength pressing their hands into my chest, instead choosing to focus on the aching. After intensifying for a few moments, it begins to ebb, no longer there in my extremities; they feel normal, as though there's absolutely nothing different about them than before Oliver took me, and the same feeling soon spreads through my stomach. However, the hunger that I ought to have due to not eating for almost a day doesn't present itself, indicating to me that my stomach is no longer an essential link to my existence.

The ache continues around my heart and in my brain, where sharp stabs of pain are suddenly so intense that I somehow find myself gasping for air that I find doesn't resolve the issue. I can't tell if this is a good thing or a bad thing; it's evidently good because I have the energy to breathe, which I didn't have before…but _I don't need to breathe!_

The pressure on my chest suddenly alleviates, not that I had particularly noticed it for the past few units of immeasurable amount of time, and I feel a light pressure against my temples, something that I wouldn't have felt before. Words are murmured in a foreign language, in a voice I recognise as Amelie's, and as she speaks, I feel warmer and warmer. The pressure in the centre of my forehead increases, as does a new one within my mouth, and I don't think I can face it any longer.

So I take the easy option. I'm not sure if this is what I'm meant to do, or whatever, but I allow myself to shut off my consciousness from all thoughts of pain, from anything in this world—and I fall back into the darkness Amelie revived me from.

The respite it gives me isn't long, though.

_~x~_

_Myrnin's POV:_

The moment her lips open and a noise escapes I know that no matter what Claire does, no matter how close to death she can take herself, there is no turning back; she is going to survive as a vampire.

Amelie's hands lift to Claire's temples and she begins to mutter the rites of what the process of turning requires. It becomes more and more difficult for me to remain with a vampire who has, sometime in the last few minutes, fallen into a stupor so deep that only a living human could tempt him back to consciousness. Therefore, I deign it an acceptable time to return to Claire's side.

Carrying a blood bag for when she awakens, I move swiftly across the room to where Claire lies with Amelie kneeling beside her, standing behind the sofa so that I'm out of Amelie's way. As I stop, Amelie's eyes open and she merely stares at me for a period of time, never stopping her reciting of the words, before she finally nods. I have permission—not that I particularly require it—to remain by Claire's side until she wakes up into her new life as a vampire.

As I stand here, I can hear the faltering of her heartbeat; it's stronger than it was when she entered the room, a fact which surprised me the first time that I was present at a turning. The vampire blood strengthened her, and if she hadn't been so close to death, I believe that it would be plausible for her to have returned as a human. She regained some strength, and now that is being used to fuel the conversion that Amelie is facilitating, which is why the new vampires are always so blood thirsty; their systems are practically empty.

"Myrnin!" Amelie hisses, and I realise that amidst my staring at Claire—she looks only very slightly different to minutes ago, though the differences are barely noticeable—Amelie has stopped her chanting and is no longer touching Claire's head. "Are you on this planet or one far, far away?" she continues, slightly tetchier than she usually would be in this situation.

As soon as she takes a step further away from Claire, I pounce, taking the position she has just vacated by Claire's side. My knees collide with the front of the sofa, forcing it backwards a few inches, and I scurry with it, clutching Claire's hand as I do so. Her skin is cooler now, more like my own body temperature, and if I need another indication that the process is almost over, this is it.

Tears begin to run down my cheeks, their purpose not particularly clear to me, and I find myself begging every person I can possibly think of for her to be alright. My mind is filled with words, with sentence constructions akin to prayers, and I begin to babble them aloud, wanting nothing more than to see her eyes snap open and for her to tell me that I should shut up.

A shudder runs through Claire's body, startling me into silence. She's near to the end now, near to opening her eyes—the only thing that needs to happen is…

…her heart stops. It makes one final beat, sending as much of Amelie's donated blood that remains around her body, and then it stops completely. Claire is no longer a human; she is one of us, a vampire.

"Myrnin?"

Her voice is weak as she whispers my name, and I tighten my grip on her hand reflexively as she speaks, the delight that she is _alive_ too much for me to handle. More tears fall down my cheeks as a grin spreads across my lips, the delight and euphoria too great for me to contain.

"Claire, you're alive!" I have to call this out, unable to resist stating the obvious.

Her eyes are yet to open, and I get the feeling that she desires to keep them shut for as long as possible; perhaps keeping her eyes shut will prevent this from becoming a reality, or perhaps it's merely to keep her control and bloodlust under a semi-form of control.

"I know," she replies, her voice equally as scratchy and barely audible as before. "I'd be worried if this was the afterlife, given that Oliver's standing in the doorway."

My head shoots up at the same time as Amelie's does to look at the doorway, and Claire is right. I do not understand how we could have missed something that _Claire_ has noticed, but we have.

Oliver is indeed standing in the doorway.

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Please **review** if you **read,** favourite or alert please!


	24. Apologies

_Chapter 24:_

Sorry I've been so bad at updating in the last few months. I've had a lot to do, and I know I promised this to people before now, but here it is?

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_Claire's POV:_

The only word I have for being what I am now is…strange. There isn't any particular word that jumps out as a description word that explains just how different it is to what I was yesterday; yet there also isn't one saying how, in some ways, it feels almost exactly the same. Besides an ache in my mouth and chest that shouldn't be there, and a few other things, I feel how I felt as a human; I can think logically, know what I want and who I want, and even know who I should trust. The only difference that is making itself extremely obvious to me in the current moment is the strength of my senses.

Whilst facing Myrnin, I hear movement in the doorway, and as both Amelie's and Myrnin's attention seems to wholly be on me, I presume that they haven't heard the arrival—that, or they're choosing to ignore it. With the identity of the person, however, I'm guessing it's more the first option.

As soon as I mention Oliver's presence, both Amelie and Myrnin's attention diverts from me towards the doorway and the man who's the reason why I am currently lying on this (admittedly rather comfortable) sofa in Amelie's house, a different creature than what I was before.

The expression on Oliver's face changes from what seems like almost concern, to a mixture of fear and pain when his eyes meet Amelie's. She holds his gaze for a long moment, and my eyes dart between them to see the changing expressions on both of their faces. What was originally shock upon Amelie's face gradually changes to regret, and then finally anger. What she is angry at, I can only guess, but as her mouth opens, I know what she's going to do—and I have to stop her.

"No!" I call out just as Amelie's lips begin to form the word 'guards'. I have no idea what makes me call this out—he kidnapped me and tried to kill me; surely I should want him dead, or at least locked away for a long period of time—but, strangely, I feel nothing but sorrow for Oliver.

Amelie cocks an eyebrow as she turns to face me, the look on her face filled with surprise. "Claire, this _man_ is the reason why you are what you currently are—I must point out hastily that you must feed within the next few minutes, or you shall perish—and yet you do not want him taken away?"

Her comment reminds me of the pain within my mouth and chest, sending stronger waves of pain throughout these regions of my body, and my hyper-sensitive nose begins to smell out blood. It doesn't take me long to find something; in Myrnin's left hand, there is a blood bag.

I turn to face him, suddenly feral in my actions as I snatch the bag from his hands, lifting it to my mouth; extra teeth have burst through my gums, though it seems painless to me, and they rip into the plastic bag to allow the salty liquid to flow into my mouth. It's cold and nothing like the blood Amelie gave me before, but as it spreads through my system, it quenches the pain within me, dulling it to a fraction of what it was before. It remains—perhaps I haven't had enough; perhaps this is how a vampire perpetually has its blood lust—but once the bag is empty in my hands, I feel as though I am completely myself once more.

For the first time since my eyes open, I _properly_ look at Myrnin—and it breaks my heart at the same time as lifting it to elevations never previously seen. He's smiling as we look at one another, but I can see the tear tracks on his cheeks, clear as anything to me now, and there's something in his eyes that has left him even more haunted than before. He saved me, I know that without even asking, and I presume that seeing me like that…seeing me like that must have almost destroyed him. I know that if it had been the other way around, I wouldn't even be able to be conscious right now, let alone smile. He's been destroyed and revived within minutes, and there's nothing I can do to prevent him feeling like this. I've never felt so helpless when interacting with another.

"Claire?" Amelie's voice rouses me from Myrnin's eyes, and I turn my head slowly to look at her, my fingers snaking out to lightly hold Myrnin's hand at the same time. "Would you care to explain yourself?"

I hold her gaze for a moment before taking a few seconds to look at Oliver. Whilst I expected to absolutely despise him, I don't quite; I understand why he did it, even though it sickens me. His actions can be explained through one emotion, an emotion that had Amelie ready to rip the town apart.

"He only did what he did because he felt destroyed by the fact that Sam returned—something, I'd like to add, which was orchestrated by Myrnin, not Oliver—not because he hated me; in fact, he apologised more times than I probably heard," I reply slowly, taking my eyes from Oliver and instead staring at the wall. I may understand and have forgiven him, but that doesn't mean that I want to look at the man who very nearly took my life. "He didn't do it to destroy you; if he had wanted that, I think he would probably have managed to do it. It was an ultimatum…and with who he is, you should have known that he would carry it out. But that doesn't mean that he needs to die—or even be locked up. Just…just let him do what he wants."

The silence seems to grow to almost overwhelming levels as a response to my words, and I turn my head to face Myrnin once more. He's looking at me, his expression a mix of confusion and, strangely, understanding, something I never expected. He hates Oliver, especially after he kidnapped me; I would have thought that he would have wanted him staked immediately. But in the split second in which Myrnin looks away from me, he looks towards Sam, and I get the feeling that whatever makes me happy—or at least what I want now—he'll agree with.

Finally, someone speaks. "I agree with Claire." It's Myrnin, unsurprisingly, and I quickly flash him a smile. "It's her decision, after all, and if this is what she wants…then who are we to deny her it?"

Amelie flashes across the room to stand in front of me, something which makes me smile slightly wider; it's usually the other way around, yet for the current moment, she is standing before _me_. I suppose it's only for this one time, yet I'm not going to deny that I rather like it.

The expression on her face, however, I do _not_.

"He very nearly ensured that this conversation would be unable to happen," Amelie reminds me. "Remember that as you issue clemency; remember that he would quite happily have seen most people in this room destroyed."

I nod slowly, lifting my eyes to meet hers, determined that she won't change my mind. "It's what I want."

Amelie sighs, a sound I rarely hear issued from her lips, but inclines her head. Her attention switches from me to Oliver in the doorway, who still hasn't uttered a word. "You heard her, Oliver; you may leave. Though this _is_ still my town—and if you are still here tomorrow, I shall have your head." A sadistic smile appears upon Amelie's lips. "The girl may be foolish enough to allow you to live, but I shall not have you within my town's limits. Is that clear?"

"Understood," is the first thing that Oliver says, and though I'm deliberately not looking at him now, I can feel his gaze hover over me for a moment or two. "I…I _am_ sorry, if that makes any difference." He takes a step backwards, and the fact that I can hear something almost silent almost distracts me from hearing him mutter, "give my condolences to Samuel," before disappearing. What he means by this, I can only guess, but I'm pretty certain that it's his last—albeit subtle—dig towards Amelie before departing her town forever more.

With Oliver now gone from the room, Amelie moves towards myself and Myrnin, her expression colder than I would have expected. Her eyes lock upon our clasped hands for a fraction of a second, it then changing to the painting in the corner of the room. "Provided that you feel you are not going to commit any murders—it wouldn't do well for someone so pro-human rights to kill within an hour of turning—you are free to go. If you remain, I will not be responsible for my actions."

I swallow, unable to help the irrational wave of fear that rushes through me at her words; she isn't going to harm one of her kind. It scares me to admit that I am what she is, that there is no person in this room who has a beating heart; I am no longer human.

There is no going back.

Looking at Myrnin, I smile ever so slightly, motioning for him to help me up as I do so. He takes the hint, pulling me effortlessly to my feet, and for the first time, I realise just how easy it is to move him. Even _I_ can move_ him_ now, a feat not even worthy of a few seconds' thinking time as a human, and in order to prove this to myself, I accidentally-on-purpose fall into him. Whilst he could probably still resist my attempts to push him, he doesn't, and so we therefore end up staggering a few feet in the direction of the door.

"Careful, little one," Myrnin murmurs in my ear, his words sending waves of a different kind through me. "You don't want to get hurt now, do you?"

I shake my head slowly, turning my head from Myrnin to quickly look at Sam and Amelie on the other side of the room. He's unconscious, as I expected he would be still, and she's sitting over him. If I had ever doubted that it's Amelie and Sam, not Amelie and Oliver, the sight of them together would have eradicated every doubt conceivable.

A wave of tiredness rushes over me as Myrnin and I begin to walk from the room, no words needed to signal our departure; he pulled lightly on my hand, and we walked together at a speed equivalent to a human sprint. It seems natural to move this fast, even with this fatigue that threatens to consume me. I don't really understand how I'm tired, but then again, I don't really comprehend anything in this new body and life—the only thing I know is that…is that the man who rescued me is the one I want.

At least, that's what I think I want now.

A familiar battered wooden door is at the end of the corridor, and it takes all my effort to stop myself flying towards it. I know that behind it lies the place I want the most.

Then it hits me: is that the Glass House and my friends, or the laboratory and Myrnin?

As we walk closer to the door, I try to stall, dragging my feet to a more human pace, but it still takes less than five seconds to close the gap between us and the door. What was originally such a beautiful sight is no longer such; it's the physical manifestation of a decision that I'm yet to make.

It's as though Myrnin senses my fear and apprehension for when we reach the portal we stop, and he removes his hand from mine, instead placing both of his upon my shoulders. "This need not be your decision now," he murmurs, but his eyes say otherwise. I know that no matter what he _says_, he means that this will show where my heart truly lies—and I know that this is the case.

Smiling, I nod and shut my eyes, allowing the tiredness to wash over me for a moment or two. Through the hazy fog of the sleep that wants to consume me, I see only one face: Myrnin. Whether that's because he's standing in front of me and I'm conscious of his every move, or it's because of some deeper meaning, I haven't a clue, but it makes my decision for me.

"If Bob has snuck into your bed again, I won't be happy because I'm planning on having a nap when we get back," I tell Myrnin, opening my eyes as I speak. The worried expression on his face fades away within a split-second, and I can't resist saying, "Were you really scared that I was going to go somewhere else—like _Oliver's_?" I can't say Shane's name, not now, not when merely thinking it sends a stab of guilt into my now immobile heart, so I think of the first male that both Myrnin and I know.

Myrnin snorts as he lets go of my shoulders and picks up my hand as easily as counting to three, the other reaching out to turn the knob of the door. "My dear, we both know that Oliver's taste is for blondes—something which, I regret to inform you, you are not."

I can't help but snort as we walk into the laboratory, before my attention is grasped by just how _clear_ everything is. It was less obvious to me in a room I'm unfamiliar with…but here, in a place I spend an awful lot of time, I can tell. My vision in the darkness is better than before, and everything…everything has a focus that combined with the tiredness, is hurting my head.

"Would you like anything to eat, drink, draw, um, experiment on…?" Myrnin trails off, his tone nervous for potentially the first time since I met him; he's always been so confident, even in situations where he's completely blind. I realise that _this_, whatever we are, is new to him as well as to me, and therefore believe that this is the explanation for his attitude.

"Er, Myrnin, I just want to sleep," I remind him gently, and note that a flash of some crest-fallen expression crosses his face. "I'll be back soon…I just…what with everything that happened, and what I am…I just want to sleep." I garble on a bit, not sure that what I'm saying is logical, until Myrnin nods.

"You know where the bedroom is; I didn't touch anything since you left it," he says quietly, letting go of my hand and moving across the laboratory to his preferred bench. "I'll be here when you wake up—if you want me."

I pretend not to notice his last words and the tone in which he says them as I walk from the room, but inside, they break me into tiny pieces.

_~x~_

After a fitful sleep, I wake up what must be a few hours later, suddenly realising something: I won't ever be able to go out in the sun without it harming me again. It's more than slightly depressing to think that I never really appreciated the sun's rays, but now they've been taken from me forever…they're all I can think about.

Moments later, I realise that I have a more pressing issue to deal with: the fact that I have to officially decide whether I love Myrnin or Shane more. That I'm a vampire probably makes one of the options impossible for me to have—it still doesn't feel right to say that I am this, even though the extra teeth in my mouth make it rather obvious that I'm not human—but that doesn't mean that I should fall straight into the arms of the other…only if that's what I want will I do that.

I begin to think about the two men, and the first thought that comes into my head about Shane is his anti-vampire stance. I remember things he's said to Michael about how much he hates them, and how he's barely accepted Michael—and, at times, would still prefer his best friend dead than one of the walking dead.

Myrnin, transversely, is standing in his laboratory, completing some sort of experiment in my mind. He's smiling, and whilst I can see in his eyes that he's fighting the monster within, he doesn't seem dangerous. He isn't opposing anyone else's views, isn't condoning mass murder for no reason—he's just being Myrnin.

Whilst I think for another half an hour or so, the feeling in my gut that this is wrong to have to make a decision—and also that I've already made one. I knew my answer when I was dying and the only person who I thought of was Myrnin. I knew when my heart almost broke because I didn't think he loved me enough to save me.

I knew when I looked into his eyes and saw everything that could ever comfort me.

As I sit up in bed, confident in my decision being the right one for me, I realise something else: my friends—if you can call them that—were out looking for me with Myrnin, that much is obvious. But when he saved me, I sincerely doubt that he took time out of the whole saving-me thing to message them and let them know that he found me.

"Myrnin!" I shout down the hallway, flashing to my feet at a speed which disorientates me. "Myrnin, did you let Eve know that I'm safe?"

I appear in the laboratory about three metres from him, and notice that Myrnin is holding sodium very, _very_ close to a pot of water—and he's distracted.

"Darn, I _knew_ I had to talk to the Goth Girl for something!" he replies, letting go of the sodium as he clenches his hands together.

Naturally, the sodium falls into the water. Whether or not this is an indication of what's to come when I go visit my friends, something which has to happen now, I have no idea, but at least it's a pretty last scientific experiment of sorts if this is to be my last few hours.

"You're coming with me, Myrnin," I warn him, my tone dark as I close the gap between us. I take his arm without words, deciding to save anything we need to say until later, when everything has been sorted. "And if anyone throws anything at me for disappearing and not telling them where I went, _you're_ protecting me from them."

I pretend not to hear, "I would protect you from anything," as we step through the portal, because I don't think that wanting to kiss Myrnin is the best sort of mood to be in whilst going to visit friends, one of whom is soon to be an officially ex-boyfriend.

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Just review, please, especially if you favourite or alert? Thanks


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